Neverland
by UndergroundValentine
Summary: Adam and Tommy are teenagers in high school, trying to survive their own lives. Tommy's father is an abusive drunk and Adam just doesn't get along with his family. -Setting; L.A. 1999, Adommy- WARNING: Extreme physical abuse
1. Late

Story description is a lyric from Darren Hayes' song "Neverland". It's the base of this story, and I love it to pieces. You should listen to it. I do not own Tommy, Adam, or the song Neverland. This is a work of fiction purely for entertainment purposes and in no way is in relation to the lives of the given characters.

**

* * *

Monday**

_Cops on the corner, always ignore, somebody's getting paid!_

He doesn't have an iPod or an MP3 player, but he listens in his head. He doesn't have the luxury of music like that, but he's got a stereo at home that he listens to religiously. It's better than anything any God might grant him for his life. Music and school, those are the Godsends that he's got, and he wouldn't really have it any other way. Some people didn't like school, but he did. It was a safe place for him to be, to learn and to live. It was better than being at home.

_Jimmy's got it wired, law's for hire, got it made in the shade!_

He turns onto a familiar boulevard and he finds himself slowing his pace. This boulevard is a place he doesn't want to be, but he has no other choice. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his shit cell phone, glancing at the time very briefly. Half past five. Fuck, he's late. This isn't going to go down well, he already knows. That's the one thing he was granted, a cell phone. So he could be contacted easily. He was taught well to always keep it on him, and always have it turned on.

He keeps walking, deciding against playing music in his own head. He wants it clear and quiet now, and maybe he'll be able to think of a good reason why he's late… again. But he knows, somewhere in his subconscious, that whatever reason he conjures won't be enough. There's going to be consequences, prices to pay. There always is.

Step. Step. Another step and he's closer to the dreadful house. He doesn't want to go, but he knows that he has to. For the sanctity of himself and his mother. He thinks of her and smiles to himself, but he also wonders if today she's okay. If today he'll find her awake and not crumpled on her bedroom floor again. He shudders lightly, gripping the straps of his backpack tighter, pulling them over his shoulders just a few inches more. No, he can't think like that now, not on his way home. It's been a decent day and he's not going to let the possible, painful reality affect the high he's coming off of.

A car rolls by and he steps up onto the sidewalk of the street. He wouldn't mind getting hit if his mum weren't on his mind. Gorgeous, beautiful Allison. He's her reason to live, he knows this. He sighs, dropping his head and staring at his shuffling feet on the ground. He kicks a rock and keeps on moving. He kind of hates it here in L.A., he wishes to God that he could get out with Allison and leave, but he knows that he can't. He needs to get an education and money before they can leave. But fuck, if he could, he would take her and just go.

'_But there's no getting out of this shitty L.A. neighborhood. I'm stuck here for at least another year and a half, maybe two._' He thinks to himself, lifting his head and peering up at the sky. The blue seas were clear with the exception of the burning orange disk that shot rays of light into every open area. It's beautiful despite the fact that he really, really, _really_ hates it here. He's been here for seventeen years, and the new millennium was breaching, shouldn't he be somewhere else than here? '_Nope._'

Sickening, almost. He's been here seventeen years, and he's still alive. How is he still alive after everything he's lived through? It's almost a miracle, to be honest. He sighs heavily, lazily shuffling his feet along the ground. With every step it's like another punch to the gut, another ten pound weight on his back. It's exhausting and he really doesn't want to go. He sighs again, coming within sight of his house. It's small, painted a faded blue with a white, rusty hinged door. The windows are grimy from lack of cleaning attention, the lawn is brown in some areas. There isn't really a garage, it's more like a shed with a drive way in front of it, also painted faded blue. The roof looks as if it's about to cave in at any moment, and Tommy just cannot wait for the day that it does. Maybe it'll crush his drunk of a father.

He pauses at his neighbor's house, not wanting to take another step forward, closer. If he could, he'd bum out on the streets for the rest of his life. But he has to take care of himself and his mother, and the only way he can do that and still go to school is by living here. His hands tighten on the straps, and he feels the dulled ache from yesterday's beating in his hips. His hips, of all places. Goddamnit. Tommy drops his head, inhaling deeply. He tries to calm himself, holding back his distaste for his home life. He has to be strong. For Allison, he has to be strong.

He takes another step forward and pauses, hearing a racket from his neighbor's house. He cringes, glancing to his right at the neat, well kept front of the Lambert household. He doesn't really know them, but they are nice people. They would bring dishes over at Thanksgiving and Christmas as gifts for the holiday season. Tommy has met the parents and the youngest of two sons, but he's never really made much of an effort to meet the oldest son. What did the parents say his name was? Alex… Andrew… Something that started with an 'A'.

There's shouting, and the door is ripped open of the Lambert house, and out storms a semi-tall, broad-shouldered male, looking in his late teens, with deep blue eyes and golden red hair. His face is twisted in that of anger and sadness, his eyes distant, and he doesn't seem to notice Tommy as he stomps across the lawn and down the sidewalk in the opposite direction that Tommy is headed. Staring, blinking only once, Tommy watches the male get smaller and smaller down the street, before he disappears all together. This is an occurrence that happened, perhaps, once or twice a week. True enough, the Lambert's _are_ nice people, but Tommy has learned that they don't always get along with one another.

Turning forward again, Tommy walks up the sidewalk, spinning on his heel and crossing the browning, crunchy lawn. He considers turning around and following the redheaded boy, just as an excuse not to go home. But he's almost certain that his dad has already seen him on the lawn, and will be expecting him to walk through the door at any moment. No, he can't turn around now and follow the eldest of the Lambert sons, as much as he might want to. He doesn't deny that, despite the fact he's never met the older son, he's rather attractive when he's not angry.

That's a secret Tommy's kept even from his mother— the fact that he's gay. Oh, Lord Almighty, _what_ would father say if he knew Thomas Joe Ratliff, his little boy, was a fag? Tommy cringes at the idea, climbing the old, rotted porch steps and gripping the door knob in his left hand. Inhaling slowly, he wills himself forward, to face the consequences. '_Just go._' He tells himself, confident and sure that he'll make it through the night, just like he has for the past seventeen years. He nods to himself once. Tommy turns the knob slowly, and doesn't get the chance to step into the doorway before an empty beer bottle crashes against the wall perpendicular to the frame, spraying glass in front of him. A few small shards grace his face, slicing faintly into his skin. He squeezes his eyes shut as the glass shatters on the wall, clamping his jaw tight; it's a reflex. He's learned to keep his sight protected and his mouth closed. The last thing he needs is to get the inside of his mouth torn to shreds or to lose his vision.

"You little shit! You're late again!" His father bellows. Tommy opens his eyes, stepping into the house and closing the door behind him. His father is a large, beastly man with unkempt brown hair and angry brown eyes. His wide, meaty hands are curled into fists, one around a half-empty beer bottle, the other around the pale, thin wrist of his mother. Tommy's eyes widen slightly as he stares at her; her faces is freshly bruised over the swollen cheeks from last night's beating. Her lip is split, her hair in tangled clumps. The tank top she is wearing exposes the welts and bruises on her arms and shoulders, her shorts just covering the bruises on her upper thighs. Her calves and ankles are a semi-permanent black and blue shade, swollen and aching. His stomach flips at the sight of her, her blonde hair curtaining her sorrowful green eyes.

"You should know by now the price to pay." Surprisingly, his father is only half drunk, and thus can speak coherent sentences. But his voice is loud and obnoxious, and his hand tightens around Allison's wrist. She squirms, but doesn't make a sound. Tommy keeps his mouth shut, tearing his eyes from his broken mother, and looking up at his douche of a father. Matching brown eyes meet and his father snarls, throwing the bottle that is in his hand at Tommy. Tommy leans to the right, the bottle smashing behind him on the wall, beer splashing out and hitting him in the back. His pack is going to reek of alcohol tomorrow, and he knows his teachers are probably going to ask questions. Great.

"Stop it, Richard, stop hurting him.." Allison begs, trying to stand up straight beside her husband. Richard shoves her to the ground; her elbow collides with the hard wood floor.

"I haven't fucking touched him, you whore!" He shouts at her, spitting on her face as he does so. Tommy has the urge to run over and punch him, but he knows, even in his father's state, that he wouldn't be able to reach him. That was the disadvantage of being short when your father was a beast.

Tommy wants to scream and shout and punch his father over and over, but he's weak. He's weak and he doesn't have the will to stand up against his own father. Not even for his mother, as much as he wants to. His hands curl at his sides and he breathes as evenly as he can, his eyes narrowing at his father. But Richard's not really seeing him. He's seeing an outline, a quivering shadow of fear and rage. Richard's cracked lips spread into a toothy smile, and he starts to laugh as he sees the curled fists at Tommy's sides.

"Little Thomas wants to be tough, eh? I'll teach him to be tough." He starts walking towards Tommy, swaying slightly with every third step. Tommy relaxes his muscles; he's learned. Do not tense up, for it will hurt worse. Do not fight back, for the beating will last longer. Do not make a sound, for the blows will come harder. And for God's sake, do not try to defend yourself.

The meat palm slams across his cheek and he stumbles into the door, his face throbbing and his head spinning. His textbooks dig into his back from his pack and he wishes that he could have dropped his bag before enduring this. But he was never really given the chance to do such. From the moment he'd opened the door, it had been hell. Go figure. Richard reaches out and grabs Tommy by the collar of his sweatshirt and throws him across the room and down to the floor. He lands on his stomach and skids a foot, crashing into the coffee table (of which is nothing more than a piece of wood placed upon four cinderblocks). His shoulder hits one of the blocks, and he can already feel a bruise forming. He opens his eyes and looks over at his mother. She's sitting up, her hand over her mouth, her eyes pouring tears like rivers. She can't do anything to help him. And he can see that she's hating herself for it.

He wants to tell her it'll be okay, and that they'll make it out together. They'll live. But he's not convinced of that himself as Richard pulls him from the table by his bag, flipping him over, his tight fist slamming repeatedly into Tommy's stomach.


	2. Adam

**Tuesday**

His stomach is hurting as he takes steps up the stairs of the front of the school. He's surprised that none of his ribs are broken from yesterday, and that he's even able to walk at all. True, the pain is breaching upon unbearable, but he'll live. He has to. For his mother, for himself, for his future. Especially his future; he's got plans he wants to accomplish. He wants to make it big one day and forget about all of this, but that doesn't mean he has no doubts about anything. Maybe he won't make it big, maybe he won't make it to tomorrow. Perhaps it's less of doubts and more like fear.

Tommy sighs softly, willing himself to not clench his stomach as he walks. He can't draw attention to himself, otherwise everything will get worse. He keeps his hands on the straps of his bag against his chest as he makes it to the top of the stairs, winded and aching all over. But he can't let it show. He has to keep his face calm and his voice sure. He's done this before, but it's not easy. And he knows deep inside that it'll never get easy. Not as long as his dad is alive, anyway.

_You'll be fine._ His mother had told him that morning as she kissed his forehead. Richard had been passed out on the couch again, his fists red from punching and hitting them both. Tommy shivers at the memory, wishing that he had fought back and that he wasn't so fucking weak. He promises himself and his mother daily that he's going to make Richard pay for everything that he's put them through. And eye for an eye, as the old saying always goes. Tommy breathes slowly, slipping between the crowds of seniors and juniors. People he's known for a few years, but doesn't all the same. He doesn't make friends very easily and doesn't trust himself to hold onto those that he does greet.

Tommy slips through the open doors, brushing passed students and teachers, even the occasional janitor. He walks down the wide lobby, and turns left, climbing a small flight of stairs and towards the first locker bay. He's at the end of the hall, the last locker on the right. It's kind of irritating having to go from his locker to the math hall— on the other side of the fucking school. He walks in step with the music in his head, his lips forming the words ever so slightly; today it's Madonna's _Vogue_. Shut up, he likes this song.

He slips between two massive football players, thankful for his size that he's able to do this from time to time. At least when they're not trying to grab him so they can flush his face into the bathroom toilets. He shivers once, remembering that one time they flushed his face when there had been piss and other questionable fluids swirling in the bowl. That had not been the best day of his life, needless to say.

Tommy drops his bag at his locker, amazed that he made it without trouble. His lungs are wheezing in his chest and he's got sweat on his brow from the aches in his chest and stomach, but he'll be fine. His only concern is gym class at the end of the day. Fortunately he always wears pants and under-armor beneath his school gym t-shirt. It's to hide the bruises that decorate his body like hideous tattoos. They never seem to go anyway anymore because fresh ones are created on a most daily basis. He kneels down, his face twitching in pain lightly before he rights himself again, spinning the dial and opening the old, creaky metal door. He swings his backpack around and open it up, pulling out his texts and books. It's a wonder he doesn't have back problems with the shit he hauls around. Then again, Mother did teach him to walk with his back straight.

Neatly placing his unnecessary books inside, Tommy starts to shove his journal into the small space before he pauses, staring at the cover for a moment. He retraces his moves, and places the journal back into his bag, zipping it up and slinging it over his shoulder again. Adjusting his grey and black striped sweatshirt, he stands and shuts the locker door with the toe of his shoe. The pains in his chest are dulled when he doesn't aggravate them, and he's trying his hardest not to. He takes a few steps, dropping his head and letting his short, messy blond hair fall just over his eyes. He's been meaning to let it grow out, but his dad made it a point to make him keep it short. Maybe one day…

He's not paying attention to anyone or anything, and he doesn't see the slightly taller male before they crash into one another, books and papers flying around in the classic chaos scene of every cheesy high school movie. Tommy lifts his head, his binder digging into his lower back as he sits up, his face twisting in pain, though he doesn't have to worry about hiding it, because the surrounding people would suspect it was from being run into. He looks over, seeing the reddish blond hair that he remembers from yesterday. He doesn't remember the blondness, but he guesses that's because he wasn't really paying attention. His neighbor's eyes flutter open and he, too, sits up, before they make eye contact.

Tommy is startled by the electrifying blue of the redhead's eyes. His breath catches in his throat and he looks away, pushing himself onto his hands and knees. He stands, dusting off his knees before holding out his hand to the blue-eyed male on the floor. The redhead nods once in thanks, taking Tommy's hand. Tommy tries not to stare at their clasped hands. They fit perfectly together, and Tommy wishes for the life of him that he remembered his neighbor's name now. He feels horrible about it, but he forgets that when the redhead blushes and looks so innocent. He's humble, and Tommy finds that very attractive. He, grudgingly, lets go of the redhead's hand and stoops down, gathering the fallen books and the papers. He doesn't stare at them, but he glances, seeing lyrics and chords. So the blue-eyed beauty is a musician and an lyricist, eh?

"I'm so sorry I ran into you… I, I wasn't paying any attention." The redhead stutters, his eyelashes sweeping over the tops of his cheeks and his blush darkens a little more. His hair is short and slightly wavy, somewhat parted down the middle and Tommy has the urge to reach up and run his fingers through it, but he doesn't. He bites on his bottom lip and hands the stack to the blue-eyed male in front of him.

"No, it's alright. It's my fault too, so it's okay." He says with a sweet, shy smile. The male takes the stack in his arms, his backpack pulled tight against his shoulders. Tommy readjusts his own bag, slipping into the awkward silence, though he wants to make conversation like you would not believe. There's a lot of things that he wants to do (none of them are sexual, you pervs), like take his hand and compliment his beautiful eyes. But he can't, because that would be even more awkward than the silence they are currently under. Tommy scratches the back of his neck, his fingers trailing over a small bruise. He fights a wince as the redhead looks up again.

"I— uh, I don't think we've met, personally." He shifts the stack into one arm and extends his right hand, a smile gracing his freckled lips (has Tommy mentioned how much he loves freckles on boys?). "I'm Adam Lambert." He says. Tommy smiles wide, taking Adam's hand in his. So he was right, his neighbor's name started with an 'A'. Adam. Such a beautiful name.

"I'm Thomas Joe Ratliff, but you can call me Tommy." He says. Adam's eyebrow raises in a slight arch and his smile shifts to a light smirk.

"Ratliff? I've heard that name before—"

"We're neighbors. I'm in the faded blue house with the shitty lawn." Adam's face breaks out into one of the most beautiful smiles ever, and Tommy's ears are graced with a light, breathy laugh. He fights the urge to pull the male to him and listen deeper to that laugh. It's intoxicating, the smile, and the laugh is just all the more perfect. It's as if the world has fallen away and it's just the two of them standing together and laughing as if they've known each other for forever.

"That's right! My family gives you food during the holidays." Tommy nods once, his face starting to ache with how much he's smiling. He's never smiled this much before. He's never talked to someone this long before. He wants to give in and make a real, true, _lasting_ friend, but in the back of his mind he can hear his conscious. '_Befriend him and you'll only hurt him. As soon as Dad finds out, you're going to hurt him. And you're going to lose him._' But Tommy shoves the thought aside as he shifts and walks beside Adam back down the hallway towards the lobby. He's ignoring the constant shouting in his own head to just leave Adam. It'd be for the best of everything, and he knows deep inside that he really should. But he doesn't want to. For once, he's doing what he wants, and he's not going to care what the consequences are.

At least not right now.

"So what's your next class?" Tommy asks as they shuffle passed a couple making out beside locker 69. Tommy finds the humor but he's done with the stupid 69 jokes. It was one thing in freshman year, but as a junior he knows better.

"Pre-calc with Howard." Adam says. Tommy finds his heart pounding and he smiles wide.

"Me too! Isn't he a douche?!" Tommy says, not afraid of stating his opinion. He's amazed that he's never seen Adam in that class before. Then again, before today, Tommy's never really paid any attention to who's in the class. He just goes to learn really, to get an education for his mother and himself. As a matter of fact, he can't remember who all is in the class with him. He's never noticed faces, just people.

"Oh my God, yes!" Adam says, his voice squeaking lightly, and he blushes a mad shade of red. Tommy stares for a moment and starts to smile again. But smiling isn't the only thing that happens. He starts to giggle— and giggles break into laughs. He stops laughing for a moment, astonished. He hasn't laughed since he was a kid. And at this he laughs again, feeling so light and so free that he laughs hard. And Adam is intrigued by Tommy's random laughing outburst that he starts laughing too. If this were any other school in any other place, people would stop and stare to try to figure out what the fuck they were laughing about. But here? No one cares. No one even turns. It's kind of nice, to be honest.

His sides aching from laughing more than anything, Tommy finally regains his breath and wipes away the tears in his eyes. He hasn't laughed in years, and to laugh that hard? His throat is sore from laughing and he's breathing hard. But it's so nice. It's so nice to be free and to be able to do this again, when it's been locked away for so long. Tommy inhales slowly, his face curled into a crooked smile and he can't find it within himself to shove that smile away and keep a straight face. He doesn't want to, and he's perfectly fine with that.

"What was that all about?" Adam asks him, wiping away his own tears of laughter. Tommy chuckles.

"Sorry— I… I haven't laughed.. like that in years." He adds those two words, 'like that', before finishing his sentence. He doesn't want to concern Adam terribly. That wouldn't be good.

"Oh. Well, I'm glad I was able to help." He says, smiling. Tommy has to keep himself from hugging the ginger. God, gingers are amazing people.

"Yeah, thanks." He says, still chuckling. They walk through the lobby, their packs and books held close. It's high school, but people are still known to snatch and run. Tommy steals private glances at the slightly taller male, and he smiles to himself again. He's so beautiful, Adam. Without thinking really, Tommy casually drops his right hand from the strap of his bag, and lets it hang beside him. Adam's got his books and papers tucked in his right hand, his left hanging free. Tommy side-steps around a passing cheerleader slut, his hand brushing against the back of Adam's. His head snaps over to the ginger at the same time Adam turns to him. They glance down at their hands, before pulling away; Tommy reattaches his hand to the strap of his back, and Adam cradles his crap in both arms, a blush on his face.

'_Stop it, Thomas Joe Ratliff. You can't get attached like this. You're only going to hurt him in the long run, so just stop it. Leave him alone, let him live his life. You'd be saving him that way. For the love of God— do _not_ fall for him…_' Tommy rolls his eyes mentally and shoves the conscious thoughts away, not wanting to listen to rational thought. This is what happens after years of abuse. He thinks on the better behalf of those around him and doesn't consider his own happiness. Even in the ten minutes together or whatever, Tommy is _happy_ with Adam, and he hasn't been happy in years. But he knows that by letting Adam into his life, he's putting the ginger at risk of his father's rage, of his past. He can't do that to Adam. But at the price of being happy, he's considering it.

'_Fine, but if you destroy his beautiful soul, you'll have no one to blame but yourself._' He cringes at the thought, aching more from the bruises and the laughter. His heart is aching, and he's never cared for someone more than his mother. But Adam— fucking hell, Adam's a different case. Adam is beautiful.

'_Fuck, Tommy. You're already in way too deep._'

And you know what? He doesn't care.


	3. Lunch

**Tuesday**

Upon leaving the room of pre-calc, Tommy realizes that, for the first time, he didn't really pay any attention whatsoever in class. Thankfully, because he's a smart boy like that, he already knows most of the material and can easily catch up on anything he missed during said class from his textbook, but otherwise he was off in his own world of utter bliss the entire period. Doing what, exactly?

Talking to Adam, of course.

Apparently they had been sitting next to each other for most of the semester and Tommy never noticed him before. But then again, he's never really noticed anyone before. Before, it was as if everyone was just a shape and he was the only detailed person. Or maybe he was the only shape and everyone was detailed, and thus was too dull to be accepted into their world of beauty. He's not sure, to be exact. Maybe it's just Adam. Because he still doesn't really notice anyone else.

He shuffles in silence behind Adam, talking a long step and coming up beside the redhead, giving him a slight smile. They decided, about half way through the period, that they will go to lunch together. Probably to somewhere cheap like McDonald's or something, because that was all they could really afford. Not that it really matters, both boys are huge fans of burgers and sodas, so it is a complete and epic win solution, to be honest. The only downside is that McDonald's is a seven and a half minute walk away from the school, and it is usually swimming with the student body.

Pushing passed a crowd of lazy freshman, Tommy and Adam walk side by side down a wide hallway, back towards the front lobby of the school. The walls are painted a boring white, the lockers a faded color of blue. The floors are a deep mahogany hard wood; something that's not common in other high schools in the area, whose floors are ugly tiles of puke pink and yellow. Sunlight streams in from overhead skylights and pours over the moving masses of students and teachers. It's the lunch hour and everyone's running around to get to their favorite spots or food joints.

On several occasions, due to the crowds slamming into them, Adam and Tommy's hands brush together. Though neither of them look at each other, both have light blushes on their slightly pale faces. Tommy because he really wants to hold Adam's hand; Adam because he's… well, sorry, Tommy's not a mind reader, so he doesn't know why Adam is blushing. But he won't deny that it's more than fucking adorable. Yeah, he sneaks little glances over at Adam now and then, but he really can't help it to be honest.

"MD's?" Tommy says over the roar of voices and people, and Adam nods once, a lightly smile on his freckled lips (how Tommy adores those lips of his). They slip passed cheerleaders, football players, nerds, geeks, theatre kids, emo kids, choir kids, writers, painters, musicians, teachers, and even teenage parents— but they're all the same to them; students. People in the world with hopes, dreams, and lives. Adam seems to know some of them, mostly theatre kids. This intrigues Tommy greatly, but he feels a little embarrassed for not having anyone to wave to in the hallway. Not even a teacher.

They turn left, pushing through the lobby and half-stumbling out of the school and into the open, hot air of polluted Los Angeles High School. Tommy's not actually sure of the name, because he's never paid attention (go figure, right?). L.A. High is what he calls it because that makes the most sense, even though he's almost one-hundred percent certain it has a different name. It doesn't matter really, because at home he just calls it 'school'.

Trotting down the flight of steps, Tommy tries to ignore the burning pains in his chest with each motion. He hates having to mask his face like this so that people won't ask questions, but then he remembers that the fewer people who stay free of the hold of his life, the better. He always has others' safety in mind before his own, but then again, what safety has he ever had in his life? Yep, that's right— absolutely none. '_One day you'll be safe. One day you'll have someone to look after you and tend to your wounds, and you won't have to do it all. One day, Tommy, you won't have to be superman and do your best to survive._' He tells himself, and he smiles a little bit.

They finish trotting down the stairs, and turn right, heading west towards McDonald's. There's still a few other people that Adam says 'hi' or waves to, but none of them stop to talk or ask questions or introduce themselves to Tommy. This makes him lonely, but not for long, because walking beside Adam makes him feel better. He feels safe beside the taller and broader redheaded male. His hand twitches, wanting so badly to reach over to Adam's, but he wills himself to keep his hands at his sides. He doesn't understand the urge to take the eldest Lambert son's hand, but he knows that it would make him feel a lot better if he did. Tommy sighs softly, pulling his hands up and clasping the straps of his backpack tightly. He's doing anything to keep from freaking out Adam.

'_You're gonna freak him out when, if, you tell him you're gay. You're gonna freak him out of he learns that your father is an abusive nutcase and you're not doing anything about it. You're gonna freak him out when you tell him you like him._' Tommy pushes these thoughts away, not wanting to sour his mood in front of Adam. He doesn't want to concern the ginger beside him, even though his heart is screaming to open up and tell everything. Oh God, he wants to. But he doesn't. Not now.

'_Don't tell him— he doesn't need to be sucked into the life that you have to deal with. As much as you want someone to hold you and tell you you're going to be okay, you can't do that to him._' But Tommy misses the warmth of someone's arms around him and comforting words being whispered into his ear. He can't remember the last time his mother had the strength to do that for him. For all he remembers, he's been the one holding her at night for the last seven years or so. He sighs softly, just under Adam's hearing, sweat forming on the back of his neck. He grimaces, both from pain and heat. He hates wearing sweatshirts and dark jeans on hot days like this, but he can't risk the bruises being exposed. But fuck, he's getting really hot.

"You okay?" Adam's voice cuts through his own internal chaos, and his head snaps over to the redhead. He's not sure how long Adam's been staring at him, but he figures it's been a while. Tommy nods once, letting go of one strap of his back and using the back of his sleeve to wipe away the sweat on his forehead.

"If you're hot, why don't you take off the sweatshirt?" Tommy wishes so desperately that he could, but he's wearing a short sleeved shirt underneath.

"Not wearing a shirt." He lies, muttering it enough that it sounds believable. But to him it comes off irritated and fake. He sucks at lying sometimes.

"So?" Adam says, and Tommy pauses. Did Adam just say 'so'?

"Wouldn't that freak you out, if I just randomly started stripping in front of you?" Tommy asks, his heart racing in his throat and making it hard to breathe. Taking off his sweatshirt and his actual shirt would be nice, let the air kiss his heated, glistening skin. But he saw his body this morning in the mirror. It's a mess of mottled skin, swollen and angry with red welts and black and blue bruises; in some cases it's yellow and purple. He's so colorful it makes him want to vomit. Adam smiles warmly at him, and Tommy forgets all about the colors of his skin beneath the fabric.

"Not at all." He says playfully, giving Tommy a wink. His heart flutters rapidly and for a moment he prays that Adam's notions equal his homosexuality. Does it? He really, really hopes so.

"Huh… So, what, seeing boys naked doesn't bother you?" Tommy asks, trying to just be as casual as he can be. He's almost damned certain that Adam knows he's gay, by the tone of his voice when he talks (he's that stereotypical gay, and he really can't help it. He tells everyone that his voice just hasn't hit that deep streak yet) and the constant blush on his face. Adam's face goes scarlet and his eyes appear distant for a brief moment. He's imagining that, Tommy figures, and a smile spreads across Adam's face.

"Nope— quite attractive to be honest." Tommy could squeal right now, his face is beaming instead. So bright to compensate with the fact he really doesn't want to squeal in front of Adam right now. The redhead turns to him and he chuckles.

"Excited much?" Adam asks, his own smile stretching further. Tommy blinks and blushes madly, looking away.

"Sorry— I… Well, I mean…" He stammers, unable to find the words. He sighs, burying his face in his palms and Adam laughs so calmly and warm that Tommy involuntarily leans over to him, nudging his shoulder against Adam's arm. Adam laughs harder, placing an arm over Tommy's shoulders, and Tommy's hands drop as if they're made of hot steel, and he looks at Adam with wide, affectionate eyes. Adam blinks, still smiling.

"What," He starts, "you never had a guy put his arm around you before?" Tommy blushes harder and shakes his head. '_Not in a friendly way._' He wants to say, but doesn't. Adam makes an 'aw' sound, and squeezes Tommy closer to him for a moment, before loosening up, keeping his arm draped over the blonde's shoulders. Tommy relaxes, letting the tension in his back release. It feels much better now, and he's not even really noticing the pain until Adam's arm bumps into the bruise on the back of his neck, and he hisses slightly.

"What's wrong?" Adam asks, worried and pulling his arm away like lightening. '_No, you're fine— put your arm back…_' He mentally responds, wishing so fiercely that he could have the strength to say it aloud. Instead he shakes his head and masks his pain with a smile that isn't quite touching his eyes, but it's definitely reaching for them. His motion is one that says, 'It's nothing, I'm fine', but he can see that Adam doesn't really believe it, and drops his arm at his side. '_No…_' Tommy has to fight a frown, and keeps his head forward.

"You were fine…" Tommy mutters under his breath, casting his eyes down to his shoes and letting a soft sigh escape his lips. Out of the corner of his eyes he can see Adam turn his head towards him, a small look of concern on his face. He wants to wipe that look away and replace it with one of happiness. It's not right for people to be concerned about him. He's never had to see it before, and he's not sure he really likes it. '_No one's ever been concerned about you— why should they start now?_' His subconscious questions him and his lip curls down slightly. It's the left side, so Adam can't see it.

Despite what Tommy said, Adam doesn't place his hand back over Tommy's shoulders, and they shuffle in an awkward silence the last two minutes to McDonald's. It's not as busy today as it normally is as they walk across the parking lot and through the double glass doors. The counter has three cashiers behind it, two customers (both students) ordering and paying. There's two directions to go; left and right. To the right, there is one half of the seating, to the left, the other half plus the bathrooms. Tommy pulls his wallet, cracked, faded red leather, from his back pocket and opens it. Allison gave him six bucks for food this week. It's all she can manage, and he doesn't eat much anyway.

He glances over at Adam, watching the redhead pull out a few dollars of his own from a black, leather wallet before slipping it back into the back pocket of his jeans. His dark grey Queen t-shirt hangs loose from his body as he pushes his hair out of his face. Tommy looks away, stepping up first and ordering a burger and a drink. It could be cheaper, but that just means he won't eat tomorrow, save it for Thursday. That was the downside with having a mum who's only paying job was housework and babysitting for other families in the neighborhood. Dad didn't do shit at home except drink beer and beat them both. He shivers gently, taking his food from the woman behind the counter. She's got an elderly face with kind blue eyes and bright red hair. She's beautiful enough she could pass for Adam's grandmother.

Adam steps up behind him as Tommy goes to the soda machines to fill his cup. He hears Adam ordering food, but his brain doesn't register what it might actually be. He doesn't really care though. He's hungry, and that's about the only thing that matters. He fills his cup with bubbling cola, and he smiles, taking a thirsty drink before filling it to the brim again. He's a sip-stealer, he won't deny. But the employees never really seem to care, since everyone else does it too.

Tommy snaps a lid onto his cup and crosses with his food and drink to a booth on the right side of the joint. It's in a shadowed corner; he doesn't know why he came over here, but Adam follows only a few moments after, a bag in one hand, a frothy cup of tea in the other. He looks over at Tommy, a slight smile on his face and beaming in Tommy's direction as he slides into the side of the booth opposite of the blond. Tommy rips open his bag, pulling his burger out and setting it down on the table. Adam does the same, though his motions are a little more fluid. He doesn't look hungry more like he needs to be satisfied with some food to get by for another six to eight hours. Tommy's not sure, so he digs into his burger with greed.

Adam looks up as Tommy begins the fast process of devouring his food. Tommy feels Adam's electrifying eyes on his face and he, too, looks up, ketchup dripping off of his bottom lip. Adam smirks softly, a strand of his strawberry blond hair falling over his eye. Tommy shuffles and snatches a napkin out of his bag, wiping off his mouth and smiling. He's embarrassed, but he's comfortable (to a degree) in Adam's presence.

'_Don't get too comfortable, Tommy._' He tells himself, swallowing the bite of his food. He looks back up at Adam as Adam's eyes drop to his own food, and he takes a small, slow bite. Tommy observes quietly as Adam eats carefully, his jaw working to chew his food, his freckled lips stained a light red from the ketchup. Tommy's staring now when Adam looks back up, and a blush graces the ginger's cheeks.

"What?" Adam asks after swallowing. Tommy blinks and laughs lightly.

"Nothing." He says. '_You're just beautiful._'


	4. Sorry

**Tuesday**

He hated leaving school today.

Well, he always hates leaving school, but today especially. He'd had a pretty pleasant conversation with Adam on the way back from McDonald's, and with the exception of gym (of which he cannot stand), the day had been normal. But now he's walking home again, and it feels a lot like yesterday. But this time he knows he won't be seeing a beautiful redhead storming out of his house. Adam had some after school activity going on and his parents were picking him up at three-thirty from the school. Tommy found this to be sweet, but it meant a lonely walk home by himself. Great.

He's walking in beat with the music in his head, something by Ace of Base, he can't really remember. _Cecilia_, maybe. Yeah— that's what it is. _Cecilia, walk in the light, Cecilia, you're gonna live forever according to a well known song…_ Haha, yeah right. Maybe Cecilia will live forever, but Tommy's damn sure that he's not going to. No one lives forever, everyone has to die at some point in their life. He shakes his head and brushes the thought aside as he walks on, reaching his street with every step that he takes. His mood is dying out and he finds his slight smile curling into a mask of nothingness.

A breeze kisses his face and he's dying to take off his sweatshirt at any moment now. He will when he gets home, he tells himself. He pulls out his phone and checks it. Two missed calls, both from home, and it's quarter to five. He wonders what Adam's up to as he ignores the two calls and slides it back into the pocket of his jeans. He can't think about it now. He knows that he's running a little late again, but it's not his fault that he lives two miles from school and has to walk every day.

The heat is becoming slightly more than unbearable, and he's really wanting to rip off this fucking sweatshirt already. He will when he gets home. That is, if his dad lets him get that far before beating the shit out of him. '_Maybe he won't. There have been days where he's been passed out on the couch all day and you've had a time to rest and heal. Maybe today will be one of those days._' But he can't get his hopes up. If he does, the disappointment is even worse to deal with. He's already convinced himself that he can't pray for his dad to change. That kind of a thing will never happen, and he's had to cope with that knowledge his entire life.

He turns onto his street, finding himself in a déjà vu sort of moment from yesterday. The sun is beaming high, the sky is oceanic blue, and he's wearing the same clothes (he doesn't have much else). The only difference is he's not gonna see Adam coming out of his house. He's not gonna see the redhead until tomorrow, and this thought makes him a little sad, to be honest. He sighs heavily, running his fingers through his sweaty hair as his ratty Converse shoes slap the asphalt street. There's holes in the bottom, but since it rains so rarely, he doesn't really have to worry.

His pace slows and he climbs onto the sidewalk as a car rolls by. It's a Honda, light yellow. It looks familiar. Tommy's eyebrow raises slightly as he walks, watching the car swerve into the driveway of the Lambert house. Ah, that's why he knows it. He kicks at a rock, watching it bounce along the sidewalk before hopping down onto the street and rolling away. That's what he wishes he could do. Just roll away from his life. But he can't. He has to stay locked down until he graduates.

He hears car doors slamming and shouting. It's not a happy conversation, and he figures that it'd been going on in the car as well. The first voice he hears is Adam's dad— what was his name again? E—Eb-Eber! Right; interesting name, Eber. But he doesn't question it. The tone, though, in Eber's voice is more annoyed than angry. Tommy looks up through the short, frayed bangs of his hair (they just barely touch his eyes), and he sees Eber talking to the back of Adam's strawberry blond locks. They're home already?

"Adam— I'm not saying it's definite yet."

"I don't care, I'm _not_ going to San Diego. I like it here." Adam retaliates, turning on his heel and staring coldly at his father. Tommy's heart freezes in his throat. They want to send him to San Diego? No, no, no! He can't go! Not when Tommy's just getting to know him. Not when he's finally found someone he can trust… Not now when he needs Adam's strength and charm.

"I understand that, son, but think about it. You're not getting anywhere with your singing lessons and you've barely maintained C grades. You don't seem to have any substantial friends— I think you're better suited in San Diego." Tommy wonders, very briefly, why they're having this conversation out here in the middle of the street. Their house is right in front of them, is it not? But that's not what his attention stays on. He becomes angry at Eber's words. It's not right for him to try to determine what Adam's future will be like based on the normalcy of his life now. Tommy isn't sure, he doesn't know Adam's life or his schedule, but perhaps…

"My singing lessons are just fine, as are my grades. And what does it matter to you who my friends are?" Adam's bright blue eyes are blazing and Tommy keeps his head low as he passed by the house. Eber's back is to Tommy, but he knows that Adam can see him. In fact, he can feel Adam's eyes on him as he passes by. He hates it, he hates that he can feel Adam's embarrassed eyes burning into the back of his head and he hates that he's heard what he's heard. His heart is thrashing in his chest as he disappears from Adam's sight— he can't feel the painful burn of those cobalt eyes.

"Son, your education and your future matter. I know you want to be a part of music, but you have to have good grades and good influences among your friends…" Eber's voice begins to fade as Tommy crosses the lawn. He doesn't like hearing Adam being torn apart by his own father. But he'd rather be torn apart with words than fists.

"The influences I get at school are better than the ones you provide." Tommy winces— ouch, that's harsh.

"Adam!" He's stepping up onto the porch now, the wood creaking under his light weight. He grabs the handle, almost eager. He doesn't like where he's at; between a rock and a hard place.

"Forget it, I'm not going!" He opens the door and steps inside, closing it behind him. He can't hear anything else, and for a moment he breathes a sigh of relief. But this relief doesn't last him long as he opens his eyes and sees an empty living room. It's even slightly cleaner than this morning. The furniture is arranged decently, the beer bottles are cleaned up the glass swept away. Fucking hell, the floor doesn't even look dusty any more. Tommy's throat closes up a little and he worries if he's stepped into the right house or not. The house still reeks as though someone has dumped a ton of beer and neglected it. So yes, he's in the right house.

His heart is heavy as he takes gentle steps further into the house. He usually doesn't make it this far without aching somewhere new. The house is oddly quiet and he's not sure what to expect or prepare for. It's too quiet and he swears he can hear his sweat gliding down the back of his neck. They can't afford air conditioning or fans really, so they boil in the L.A. heat. It's difficult sometimes. But he's learned to get used to it, since he's been here his entire life and hasn't left once. Peachy, isn't it?

Tommy shrugs out of his backpack, but keeps his sweatshirt on. If his dad happens to use something other than his hands, Tommy doesn't want the object of choice to be direct on his body. A little cushion (no matter how thin or worn out) never hurts, he knows.

He takes a step beyond the living room, reaching into the dining room when he hears his father cursing and Allison is screaming. His heart stops and he pushes into the floor, launching himself to their bedroom at the end of the house. He nearly trips over his own feet rushing through the kitchen and through the utility room. Their door is just twenty feet from him but twenty feet feels like a thousand and his mother is screaming so loudly that his ears are beginning to bleed, he's sure. His breathing is ragged and his chest hurts from Dad's beatings but he's too far gone to care about that right now; Allison needs him.

He grabs the knob of their bedroom door and turns it, ripping it open before stopping. Now, he's walked in on his parents having sex before, but this isn't an act of passion. This isn't remotely close to any of that and he wants to vomit right now. His mother's hair is clumped in Richard's fist, patches bleeding from where he's ripped out her golden locks. Her eyes are screwed shut in pain as her hips are pressed into the carpeted floor. She's naked, her bruised body gleaming with sweat and fresh marks on her back and thighs. Tommy chokes, watching his dad's jutting hip bones slam into his broken mother's lower back. Oh God— he's fucking her from the…

He falls to his knees, choking and dry heaving in the doorway. He can hear his dad shouting but it's as if it's in a tunnel. He feels large hands grabbing him by his hair and lifting him back up to his feet, dragging him away from his mother. He can't see her as tears stream from his eyes. He can't believe what he's seen. His own mother— raped? No… beat her until you're unable to identify her, but don't rape her. Tommy chokes aloud, coughing as Richard punches his stomach against and again, ripping his sweatshirt off of him. His eyes are squeezed shut as his dad tears apart Tommy's shirt as well, exposing his bruised back and chest. There's a moment where there's nothing but Allison screaming, and then he feels the leg of a chair slamming into his shoulders and ribs.

Doesn't anyone hear the screams? Is anybody listening? Please, God, someone call the fucking cops! Tommy's crying and he's being hit harder and harder. He's sure that his bones are breaking to fine dust and he'll wake up ten years from now from a coma. He opens his blurry eyes to find his dad leaning over him, eyes crazed and angry as the chair leg comes down and down and down. Stop it, stop it, it hurts. He's sputtering and wheezing for air. He won't be able to make it to tomorrow. He won't be able to go to school. He'll be in too much pain to move tomorrow.

Allison screams again and Richard stops hitting him. His body aches with every twitch and spasm. He's panting and moaning and wanting to just die. God, dying would be so nice right now— to just sleep and never again wake up. He'd be able to start fresh in the next life and hopefully have a better life. A better father who doesn't beat the shit out of him and rape his own wife. But that next life better include Adam.

Oh, fuck, Adam— Tommy fears that Adam can hear everything. The screaming, the crying, the shouting, the beating. Haven't they heard it for years? Why haven't they done anything about it now? Why haven't they called the cops, why hasn't _anyone fucking saved them yet?_

'_Save us…_' Tommy begs to no God. But he begs the universe, because he tries to believe that if he asks for better from something greater than everything, maybe it'll be considered. He feels a presence beside him and Tommy's eyes open wearily. Allison is hovering over him, her eyes red and grief-struck. She eases Tommy's head into her lap and he cares less that she's still naked and more for the fact she's holding him. He breathes in slowly, his breath shaking and weak. The next day's going to hurt like a bitch.

"Oh God, Thomas, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry… My baby boy…" She weeps, her tears falling on Tommy's face. He wants to tell her he'll be okay, but he knows he won't be.


	5. Angel

**Thursday**

School was a bitch yesterday, and he figures his the left half of his ribs are cracked. Everything hurts and it's hard to breathe sometimes. But today he's wearing a long sleeved shirt, so he was able to leave his sweatshirt (now in slight ruins) at home. His mum promises that she'll try to go out and buy him a new one. He thinks of her and wants to cry. She couldn't walk yesterday. She was bedridden and this only made Dad angrier. He shivers and draws his backpack tighter to his body, fighting the tears as he drops his head, walking slowly. The images of his dad, mounted upon Allison as if she was nothing more than a broken horse trying to please the rider… He feels his stomach flip and he wants to vomit again.

He passes teachers and fellow classmates but he can't really see them. He sees people moving and that's about it. He fears that if he lives through this abuse then he'll never again see the beauty of life and everything will be shades of grey. Nothing will have meaning and he'll be this mindless droid shuffling through life. His heart pounds and for a moment, in a place of safety, he's truly afraid for himself. He doesn't want to lose faith in life, but his dad makes it very difficult for him to hold onto anything beautiful.

He turns up the flight of stairs, heading for his locker. He's managed to survive first period; Adam arrived late and Tommy was off in his own world, not noticing much of anything like usual. He felt bad afterward, but Adam assured him not to worry about it, and the ginger had run off to go talk to another teacher. It's been pretty uneventful, and now he's on his way to put his stuff away and head to lunch. That was the nice thing about school; it starts late and you only have to suffer one class (which is the longest of the day) before lunch. Quite nice, though a little strange.

'_Everything's a little strange, so it's okay._' Tommy tells himself shuffling past several people. His body is aching and he really just wants to go curl up somewhere and go to sleep. Not home, though. He doesn't get a whole lot of sleep there, sadly. But it's not a huge surprise. Sometimes he'll wake up to his dad shouting at him or because his mum is screaming at the other end of the house. The night's the worst for when Allison needs him, because he's supposed to be asleep. He's not allowed to run and help her. Otherwise it's bad for them both, but sometimes he wonders what is truly worse, the day or the night.

He sighs heavily, wishing that he didn't have to have thoughts like this. He wishes he was like other people, fretting more over chemistry tests and what they're wearing rather than if they're gonna make it to tomorrow or if they're gonna find their mother dead on the bathroom floor. He shivers. Fortunately, he's never come home to see Allison dead. But that doesn't mean he isn't afraid of the day that it might happen.

For a moment he lets his mind wander and he thinks about Adam. He allows himself a small smile thinking about the beautiful ginger. He's still astonished that Adam has singing lessons and writes lyrics. He wonders what his voice sounds like. He'll have to ask one day for Adam to sing to him. Maybe he can play guitar for Adam— that's something he likes to do, guitar. Guitar and bass, both of which he's good at. He imagines it for a moment, playing a soft tune and listening to Adam sing. Somewhere quiet, where they can be alone and not bothered by argumentative or abusive fathers. Somewhere where they can talk and be free together. His smile widens a little more. He likes that idea a lot.

He's not paying any attention, and Tommy accidentally bumps into a larger male, apologizing under his breath. But it's not enough, and rough, calloused hands grab him by his aching shoulders and shove him against a locker. His head slams into a hinge and he groans, blinking and looking up into the eyes of a football player. He doesn't understand the game, and he doesn't know this person, but the jersey and buzz cut is all the hint he needs to get the idea. He chokes softly, his lips slightly parted as his eyes widen up at the snarling face of the player.

"Punk-ass bitch, watch where you're going." Oh, this is just not his week, is it? Tommy glances to the left and sees two other football players strutting up the hallway. Aw, fucking hell! Not more of them! '_Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!_' He thinks to himself, returning his fearful gaze to the player holding him off the ground now by his shoulders. The other two players see them, and stroll on over, mischievous looks on their faces as their hands grab his shoulders, one on each side. He shakes head slowly, begging them not to—

One fist into his stomach. For football players, they're weak in their punches. But then again, his dead used to be a boxer. Sure, the knuckles of the player's fist are taught with skin stretched white and angry, but he doesn't know how to use his strength in a punch. Sure, it hurts like hell against Tommy's broken and bruised torso, but it's nothing compared to what his dad has done to him in the past three days. It doesn't even come close to anything that's happened to him already.

Fist after fist crashes into his stomach. It's stupid, really, how pathetic this is. But it still hurts. '_Just let it all go._' Softly, he tells himself, as if it's a whisper. It doesn't even sound like his own voice. Strange. But he drops his head, clearing his mind and letting himself float. The blows seem less painful now; why is that? Weak punches become taps against his body, to feathery touches and nothing at all. He can't feel it anymore. Weird. He closes his eyes, breathing deeply. He can't even feel the pain from Tuesday. His mind is a dark, warm place and for a moment he feels at peace. His body is warm and comfortable and he feels like he can fly in this state. He's so weightless. He smiles to himself, letting his body drift… drift into darkness…

"Hey!" Suddenly he feels as if the world's turned wrong. His face is pressed to something cold and he feels more horizontal than vertical. This isn't right. Tommy wills his eyes to open, and he feels his lids shift, but he still can only see darkness. Why is that? His hearing is distant, but he can hear someone talking, trying to shake him. Dulled senses pick up that there are hands on his shoulders, gently moving him. He's still blind and nearly deaf, but he can feel the pain washing back into his body, and he cringes, groaning in pain. It's mind numbing how much pain he's in now and he feels like his chest has caved in on him. His body is screaming and he feels broken. Is he fully broken now? Can he finally tell someone?

'_Never._' Fuck.

"Hey— kid, wake up. Hey!" His hearing, which is less distant and more muted (like someone's hands are cupped over his ears), begins to fade back in. His blackened vision starts to clear and everything's fuzzy at first but it's getting better now. It's not as dark. He sees a creamy-faced male with a slight Mohawk sprouting from his roots, a soul patch trimmed neatly on his chin. Soft eyes are wide with concern and the male helps Tommy into a sitting position. The blonde's head is swimming and he really, really wants to puke right now. But he didn't eat this morning, so it'd be closer to dry-heaving actually.

"You alright kid?" The man asks. Tommy blinks once, his face cold and sweaty. His hands are starting to shake. His body is cold and he feels the acids rolling over one another in his stomach. He shakes his head and tries to stand, his legs like jelly and he can't really walk. The man helps him to his feet and Tommy stumbles to the trashcan across the hallway. His cold hands grip the edge and his vision darkens again as he throws his head into the opening and heaves bile and saliva into the can. His body trembles violently as he heaves again and again.

There's someone else talking as he coughs up the emptiness of his stomach. His throat is burning like hell from this and he wants to curl up and cry. It's just _not_ fair. Why does he have to suffer like this? He chokes on his own spit, and coughs it into the can. He can't hear anything so he figures the hallway is empty. Well, mostly empty— there are two voices. But they're muted again and hard to understand. His legs wobble and he falls again, his knees crashing hard onto the wood floor of the school. He feels arms wind around him and lift him to his feet, very gently. It's warm and Tommy doesn't care who it is. He turns slowly and curls into the embrace, smelling a sweet scent that he can't quite place. He sighs softly into the person's jacket. It's so warm…

"Tommy? Tommy, can you hear me?" He knows that voice, and his eyes open slowly. He knows this person, this man. But maybe man isn't the term. Perhaps "angel" is more appropriate. But he doesn't think about it as he tilts his head up, blinking once and staring briefly into those beautiful blue eyes. They're wide, afraid, concerned, but gentle all the same. Tommy buries his head into Adam's chest as the ginger's arms tighten around him, and Tommy feels Adam press his lips to the top of his head. He breathe deeply, willing himself not to cry right now.

Adam coos to him to calm him; he's still shaking a little bit. His throat hurts from vomiting, and his body is aching with a fire that won't ever go away. He bites done on his bottom lip as Adam rubs his back gently. He's trying not to let the pain push Adam away— not this time. That's happened once before and it left him upset. He wants to stay right here for forever; safe and warm and happy. Well, he wants to be happier and in less pain, but with Adam he feels so secure and comforted. Right here and right now, he's happy again.

"Tommy?" Adam says his name again, and Tommy hums in response. "C'mon— let's get you out of here. No school for you today." He finishes. If this were any other day, Tommy would refuse and rush to whatever class he was late for. But today, he doesn't mind skipping. In fact, he kind of likes the idea of it. It means he doesn't have to suffer the pain while trying to pay attention in class. Tommy nods once into Adam's chest, and the ginger kisses his hair again, before unwrapping his arms from around him. Instead, he slips his arm around Tommy's waist to keep him from falling. Tommy blinks and sees the male who'd helped him up— he's holding Tommy's bag.

"Good to see you're doing okay, kid. I was worried about you." The Mohawk guy chuckles lightly, falling in slow step beside Tommy and Adam. The blond would chuckle in response, but he's too out of it to do much of anything at the moment. Instead he lifts his mouth into a crooked smile towards the guy.

"Oh, sorry— Tommy, this is Monte." Adam says, nodding his head to the man beside Tommy. The blond nods once in understanding. Monte, nice name.

"Adam, we can deal with introductions later. Right now Tommy needs to sit and eat something." Monte says firmly to the redhead as they practically crawl at snail's pace down the hallway towards the lobby. Tommy winces from pain as Adam's arm tightens too much around his ribs, and Adam loosens up a little bit, but keeps his arm there. How many times is he gonna need to rely on other people to help him? He used to be so good at taking care of himself, why is he fucking up now?

"I know, Monte. I know." Adam replies softly, pulling Tommy closer to him. Tommy breathes gently, wanting to stay like this.


	6. Promise

**Thursday**

"You gonna be okay?" Adam asks him as they walk down the sidewalk together. Tommy nods once, running his fingers through his hair. School had been a bitch on a bitch boat and he managed to get out of gym by telling the teacher what had happened before lunch with the football players. He got to spend all of that class period in the health center, laying down and resting. He's never had a better, quiet moment to himself where he can just sit and sleep and heal. Thankfully, also, the nurse didn't ask to see any bruises or marks. In fact, she just took one look at him and let him into one of the two rooms.

He knows that Adam doesn't really believe him, and he wonders if the ginger's heard all that goes on in their house. He hopes that he does, praying that the pain will all end soon. But at the same time he hopes that he doesn't because he doesn't want Adam to be dragged into the mess. He doesn't want to see the ginger get hurt because him. That would be the last thing he wants in this world. He's already made a promise to keep Adam safe from his life. '_But how long can you keep that promise before it blows up in your face? You can't protect everyone for forever, Thomas. So get used to it._' A subconscious thought warns him gently, and he sighs softly. He'll protect Adam as long as he can.

Tommy shuffles beside Adam, reaching their street. He feels his heart pounding, but not nearly as bad as before. He's got Adam beside him, so he feels safe. Even if it's only for a little while, he has security and warmth beside him. Adam's a soul of strength and light, and Tommy finds himself attracted and attached to that light, feeding off of it for his own well being. It's not a total bad thing, right? Because he doesn't think so.

Tommy thinks for a moment, back to the beginning of the week. The first time he noticeably saw Adam. He turns his head, facing Adam as they walk. "Hey, Adam? Monday afternoon, you kinda stormed out of your house. What happened?" Adam glances over at him, his eyes distant.

"It was nothing— don't worry about it." The ginger says firmly, his jaw set into a clench.

"But you—"

"I don't wanna talk about it, Tommy. As it is, I'm sorry you heard my dad and I arguing on Tuesday. So, please, just disregard everything entirely, because it's not important." Adam's voice is cold and harsh, but Tommy knows he not trying to be mean. And even though Adam's tone of voice suggests that the conversation is over, Tommy was stubborn in his youth. Persistent, and he doesn't give up fighting unless there's no chance of winning.

"You're dad was talking about moving you to San Diego though." Adam sighs, his face weary.

"Tommy, that's only my dad's suggestion. He thinks I'm not doing well enough in school to stay here, but I promise you, everything's fine." Adam turns his head and smiles brightly at Tommy. "I'm not gonna go anywhere, so stop worrying so much about it." He says gently, reaching over and taking Tommy's hand in his, giving it a squeeze before letting go again. Tommy's face flushes and he smiles. It's amazing how close they've gotten to one another in just three days. Tommy still has yet to tell Adam about his life, but he figures he'll tell the ginger one day, when the timing is better.

"If you do go anywhere, you had better take me with you." Tommy says with a light laugh, but inside he means it. If he goes anywhere, he wants to go with Adam. Adam, who's become the only best friend he's ever had in his life.

Adam barks out a hearty laugh, his face bright with a wide smile. "Don't worry, Tommy, I will. I'll take you with me even if I have to give you a piggy back ride." Tommy blinks once and busts out laughing with Adam as they stumble down the street together, leaning on one another as their breathing becomes short and their sides begin to hurt. They clench their stomachs as they gasp and stop in front of Adam's house. Tommy, bright eyed, is given a bear hug from Adam and a light peck on the forehead.

"Take care of yourself." Adam says. Tommy smiles, nodding once. '_I'll do my best, Adam._' He thinks to himself.

"You too." Tommy says, turning on his heel and heading to his house as Adam crosses up into the driveway of his home.

The high of happiness fades as he pulls himself up the stairs of his house, his body quivering with pain. He pushed the aches aside earlier so he could have a good walk home with Adam, but now he's cringing with most every move. But it could be worse. It could be a lot worse, as much as he hates to admit it. Tommy sighs, opening the door and stepping inside. The house is semi-clean, much like when he walked in on Tuesday. But he can't hear any voices or any obscene thumps or slaps or objects breaking. It's quiet, and this bothers him greatly.

Creeping slowly, he pulls off his bag and silently makes his way to his parent's bedroom. If he's careful, he might be able to slip by everything unnoticed and actually get some fucking work done today. He passes through the kitchen and the utility room, seeing the door is slightly ajar. Carefully, he grabs the knob and pulls the door open. There's enough light coming from the west window to see that his mum is asleep in her bed, looking beautiful even with the bruises on her face and arms. His dad must not be home. Probably out with his drinking buddies again. In fact, he's quite sure of that, because Allison wouldn't be sleeping if he would only be out for an hour or two.

Shuffling back towards his own room, Tommy breathes a light sigh of relief that his dad isn't home. He can get work done and maybe, just maybe, get some decent sleep tonight. But perhaps that's a little too much in terms of wishful thinking, and he begins to strip out of his sweaty shirt as he walks into his room, which is right beside the one and only bathroom of the house. He opens his door and steps inside, closing it behind him. His room is small, nothing more than twelve feet by eight feet. It's enough for a futon on the floor, the stereo right next to it, the mound of CD's at the foot of his bed, a large suitcase with clothes and his acoustic bass guitar. He smiles to himself, tossing his grimy shirt in a corner, kicking off his shoes and glancing up at the window facing east.

He has a clear view into the Lambert backyard. At first it used to bother him, seeing into other people's properties. But after a while he just didn't care anymore. No one ever really goes out into the backyard unless it's during the summer, and only once or twice has he seen Adam's mum go out to pull weeds or something. But today no one's back there, and Tommy turns away from the window and kneels down to his suitcase, pulling out another long sleeved t-shirt. He's got a few light bruises on his arms, one or two on each, and he decides to put the shirt back, grabbing a sleeveless black shirt. The worst of everything is his stomach, chest, and hips, and even a little on his thighs. He peels his jeans off, grabbing a pair of loose fitting grey sweats and tugs them on, rolling them up to his knees. There's one bruise on his calf, but that's nothing, really.

He's surprised that his dad doesn't hit his legs. He guesses it's because he wants to keep Tommy on his feet and walking. A broken leg is harder to hide than ribs or bruises. Tommy sighs, feeling much cooler now. He tugs his shoes back on and exits his room, crossing into the bathroom. He turns on the faucet and splashes cold water on his face, staring up at his reflection as he examines the dark circles under his eyes. Exhaustion, stress, and fear. It kills. Very slowly, but it does.

Tommy sighs and shuts the water off, wiping his face on a nearby hand towel. He feels cleaner, cooler, and much better now that he's not boiling under excessive fabric. He turns on his heel and crosses into the kitchen, passing through and heading back to his parent's room. He needs to get out for a few hours but he wants to let Allison know before he goes. He slips silently into the room, creeping across the floor and to her side of the bed. He doesn't want to disturb her since she's sleeping so peacefully. He reaches over, placing his palm on her forehead, and brushing away the strands of her hair. Her eyes slide open fluidly and she looks up at him, her green eyes tired.

"What is it?" She asks him, turning onto her side so she can face him a little better.

"I'm going out on a walk. I won't be gone long, I promise." He says as her eyes widen at the first sentence. She sighs softly, her eyes closing slowly before opening again.

"Okay. Be careful, and be home before it gets too dark, okay? I'll call you if your father gets home before you." Like that would actually ever happen. But he nods anyway and leans down, kissing her forehead gently. Her skin is warm and he strokes her hair gently before turning and exiting the room, walking through to the kitchen. He stops at the freezer, pulling it open and reaching deep inside. He finds the box he's looking for and tugs it out, shutting the freezer. He taps the box repeatedly against his palm, packing the contents inside before removing the plastic wrap of the cigarettes. Snatching a lighter from the kitchen table, he turns right and crosses the living room, stepping out of the house and closing the door behind him. He opens the lid of the cigarette box and plucks one out, popping it between his lips. He tucks the box into the pocket of his sweats and lights the cigarette, sucking heartily on it.

Now he really feels better. He doesn't smoke often, but sometimes, on days like this, he sucks a couple down to soothe himself entirely. He does it often enough to get the kicks but rarely enough that he's not addicted. He doesn't have the yellow teeth, the bad breath, nothing. And to be honest, he likes it this way. It's like he's got all the benefits from it without a single side effect. He doesn't even cough anymore.

He exhales slowly, watching the smoke flutter away from his face as he takes a few slow steps down the stairs. His body is hurting, but the nicotine is taking his mind off of it. It's as if it's disappearing and he forgets it's there all together. He crosses the lawn, heading west down the street. There's a spot less than half a mile away that he likes to go to and just be alone. It's quiet, secured, and sheltered from the rest of the world. He pictures it in his mind and smiles, taking another drag of the cigarette and walking with an even pace down the street.

He passes several houses, makes several turns. The walk isn't long, lasting no more than five minutes, but since he's alone it feels even longer than that. He finishes his cigarette, flicking the butt away into the street as he exhales a last breath, shoving his hands into the pockets of his pants as he walks. The air kisses his neck and his arms, and he smiles to himself as his hair is tossed around his skull. His deep brown eyes shift to the right as he curves off of the main road and down a dirt path. Trees swarm over him, making a canopy of green and yellow. It's quiet and peaceful and he often forgets how much he really loves it here until he returns again.

Taking a sharp left, Tommy ducks underneath several overgrown bushes, weeds, and fallen tree limbs, before pushing past a section of a shrub. He stares at the familiar sight of the gushing river bank, bubbling brilliantly over a field of stones. The trees' protective cover has stopped short here and ceases to be, opening up a marvel of red skies with glittering stars. He sighs softly with a smile, dropping his eyes and seeing a person. Their back is to him, but the golden-red hair is a dead giveaway. The ginger is clad in a loose fitting button up blue shirt and khaki shorts, his feet are dipped into the running waters.

"Adam." Tommy says, stepping into the small clearing. The male turns his head, his blue eyes wide for a moment, before he smiles.

"Hey."


	7. Peace

Sorry this is late, urgha. It's been done for like, two, three weeks I just forgot to post it here. Anyways, someone said they wanted fluffiness between Adam and Tommy. And... well.... :3 Here you go. Enjoy, because the happiness isn't going to last for long. ^^;

**

* * *

Thursday**

He smiles slightly and walks forward, undoing his own shoes and kicking off his socks, sitting down beside the redhead. He dips his feet into the cool waves of the river, shivering as the water chills his skin, but he gets use to it really quickly. The sun's beaming down upon them both and Tommy has half a mind to reach out and take Adam's hand in his. He wants to, but he doesn't, because that would just make this nice moment a little awkward. And right now, that's not what he wants to deal with.

Adam doesn't say anything, and neither does Tommy. They're content being silent, just enjoying the sunshine and the water gushing between their toes. Tommy glances down, staring at Adam's feet under the waves. He has nice toes. Tommy smiles; Adam's feet are a creamy color, just like the rest of him, freckles on the top. He must be covered in freckles. He sneaks a peak over at Adam's face as he rests his arms on his knobby knees. He looks as if he's staring passed Adam, and that's how he likes to be. But he studies the redhead's face carefully, looking away just before Adam looks at him. His eyes are as brilliant a blue as ever, his cheeks rosy with sun. And if Tommy looks hard enough while still be nonchalant about it, he can see the freckles on Adam's lips. So beautiful.

But then comes a moment where Tommy doesn't look away fast enough, and Adam catches him staring with a look of pure admiration in his face. Blushing, Adam nudges Tommy's foot with his own, and Tommy blinks, going scarlet in seconds. He's at a loss for words. '_Way to go, dipshit, you got caught._' He thinks to himself, smiling and laughing nervously. He hopes that Adam doesn't think him strange for staring. But then again, he wouldn't be surprised if Adam _did_ think him strange. A lot of people thought him strange, they just never said it to his face.

"Sorry…" Tommy says softly, running his fingers through his hair, still awkwardly laughing. Adam shakes his head, a grin stretching across the gorgeous, freckled lips.

"It's fine." Adam replies, glancing over at Tommy. But his bright blue eyes catch one of the faint bruise on Tommy's left calf, before trailing up and catching the smaller ones on his arms, and they widen. "Are you alright, Tommy?" He asks, motioning to them. Tommy looks down and shrugs, his heart going frantic in his chest. He hadn't expected to meet Adam here, so he thought he was safe with going sleeveless. But he was wrong. Adam's here, he's seen some of the marks that his dad has left upon him…

"Yeah. It's just from gym." He lies. He _hates_ lying to Adam, it leaves a pit of acid bubbling in his stomach and it makes him want to vomit. And now the bile seems to be forming on the back of his tongue; he can taste it, see. Ugh. Not here, of all places. Not. Here.

"Ah, makes sense." Adam seems to take the bait, but Tommy's convinced by the fleeing look in the redhead's eyes that he doesn't believe it for a moment. They sit, again, in silence, watching the waves lap over one another. Tommy shifts, stretching his legs out and letting his calves rest in the water, the waves splashing over the tops of his ankles. It's cooling, relaxing, and he leans back on his elbows, letting his head hang, his hair swooshing gently in the light breeze. For Los Angeles, California, this weather is nice. It's decent; not too hot. Breezy and refreshing. And, fuck, it's not muggy.

"So how'd you know about this place?" Adam asks to break the silence, and Tommy lifts his head a little to glance at the ginger. He smiles, letting his head fall again.

"I've known about it for a few years. I usually come here when my dad's out, just to get away, you know?" He says softly, before lying down on his aching back. He cringes a little but he gets comfortable, and he tucks his arms behind his head. His legs are cold from the water, but he likes it. It's soothing.

"Really? I don't see you over here all that much." Adam remarks, and Tommy lets a breath escape his lips.

"Dad's been home a lot more, lately. He needs me to do stuff around the house."

"What about your mom?" Tommy's left hand twitches, and he fights to keep himself calm. He wonders if he should be heading back soon. Is she okay? Is she still sleeping? Did Dad come home before she got the chance to call him? Oh fuck, oh fuck…

"Mom gets sick a lot." More lies. They're not sick, they're being beaten and raped. They're being tortured, and no one's coming to save them! Not even Adam— Adam, God. Tommy could so very easily spill every secret, every desire, every need and want to Adam right now. But what good would it do to suck this beautiful ginger into the mess? No good. It would ruin Adam. But the bile is turning in his stomach and Tommy feels really sick now. He closes his eyes to block out the gradual spinning of the world.

"Gotcha." Adam is silent for a little while longer, and Tommy finds himself drifting in and out of focus. But he feels warmth traveling over his leg, and he relaxes. The warmth shifts up and over his clothed stomach. More relaxation; this is nice. He likes this. A shiver trembles down his back and a ragged breath escapes his lips. The warmth, which feels oddly like fingertips right about now, trails over his jaw line and over the curve of his bottom lip. Adam?

His eyes open slowly, and he sees Adam staring down at him, his fingers pressed against his lip. Adam. The ginger blinks and pulls away suddenly, embarrassed. Tommy's heart races in his chest. Oh God, Adam was touching him. Adam's hands were pouring warmth into him, oh fuck, fuck! He looked like he was about ready to kiss the blond. Sitting up slowly, Tommy looks over at the redhead, who's staring hard at the river.

"Hey—" Tommy says, touching Adam's shoulder. The redhead doesn't move, doesn't even blink. "Hey, Adam… You don't have to be upset or embarrassed, it's fine." He says gently, keeping his voice calm. He can't tell Adam that he enjoyed the attention, that he enjoyed being touched. It wasn't sexual, it was curious. Tommy can still feel the phantom warmth that is slowly fading from his skin. He wants to bring it back. Right now.

"Sorry— it's just… you looked so at peace, and I thought you were asleep." Adam mumbles under his breath, so soft Tommy can barely hear it. But he does, and he smiles.

"Adam, look at me." The redhead shifts his attention to the blond, looking so apologetic and passive. "I promise, it's fine. I wasn't uncomfortable by it." He says, and Adam looks a little more relieved than he did two minutes ago. In fact, he even allows himself a small smile. Tommy grins, drawing his knees to his chest and staring at the gushing waves of the river. His skin is burning from where Adam's fingers had touched him. He wants to ask the redhead to do it again, but he's not sure how to ask. '_What better way to ask than to just do it bluntly? No… not yet…_'

"So— what do you want to be when you grow up?" Tommy asks. It's a really lame question, he knows, but he doesn't give a shit right now. It's an honest question, and Adam's face breaks into an embarrassed smile as he shifts beside Tommy, staring out across the river and to the other side, a bank with overgrown trees and bushes.

"I want to be a singer. I want to perform and make people happy, you know? Just get on a really big fucking stage and wail." Tommy can see, though Adam's not looking at him, that the redhead's eyes are bright and excited. It's his dream, and a thought occurs to the blond. He smiles and shifts, facing Adam.

"I can play for you." Tommy says, nearly grinning ear to ear. Adam turns his focus fully upon the blond and has a quizzical look mixed with a smirk.

"What?"

"I play guitar. Tomorrow, I'll play for you, and you can be a performer." It sounds like the most brilliant idea ever to Tommy, and he really hopes that Adam will let him play. Adam blinks once and his quizzical smirk turns into a smile. Slowly, he reaches over and tucks a loose, short strand of Tommy's hair behind his right ear, stroking his cheek. Tommy blushes, but he keeps his eyes locked with Adam's. He leans over, the distance between them closing at a rapid rate. Tommy's eyes slip shut and he can feel his face getting hotter by the second as Adam presses his lips to his burning cheek. A feathery touch, gentle and warm. Now he's on fire.

"I'd like that." He whispers into Tommy's cheek, and the blond can feel him smile. Adam pulls away, still inches from Tommy's face as the blond opens his eyes again. His left hand lifts and he cups Adam's cheek in his palm, pulling the redhead closer and easing their lips together. Chaste. So very chaste, but so very passionate. Adam shivers, his hand sliding along the length of Tommy's thigh and curving around his lower back. Tommy fights so very hard to turn his gasp of pain into an intake of breath at intimacy. And Adam's so far into the kiss he doesn't notice it. '_Thank God_.' Tommy tells himself, moaning as Adam's tongue trails along his bottom lip.

The redhead's experienced in the art of kissing, as Tommy very well learns right off of the bat. Adam slips his tongue between the blonde's teeth, letting it rest for a moment against Tommy's. He pulls Adam even closer, sucking on the redhead's tongue. It's all instinct, what his pounding heart is telling him. He's never done any of this before, how is it he's doing it now? '_Stop over-thinking and fucking enjoy yourself._' He thinks, and moans into Adam's mouth as the ginger slides closer still. He's burning alive and loving every fucking moment of it. Adam expertly weaves his fingers into Tommy's short, choppy blond hair, pulling gently on it. And when Tommy moans, Adam pulls harder. The blond feels a pressure growing in his groin and he's surprised at himself but doesn't react upon it. It seems he likes his hair being pulled. Okay.

Adam pulls away, kissing Tommy's lips again, though only briefly. His heart is going mad and he's sure that the world is spinning around him. Adam strokes his hair and smiles, and Tommy can feel his heart melting. Oh God, he just freaking made out with Adam, a guy he's known only since Monday! Fucking hell!

"Wow…" Tommy breathes, chuckling. Adam leans in and kisses him again. It makes Tommy's heart leap to his throat and overwhelm his senses. He can't get enough of these kisses. He wants to bathe in them. Naturally, his head floats to other things. How would these kisses feel on the rest of his body? The pressure in his groin builds further and he muffles his moan into Adam's lips. God, this is so bad. He's letting himself give in and he's not even caring about Adam's safety. Only Adam's lips on his, only his hands in his hair, the _God awful_ pressure in his groin! Fuck!

'_Remember, Tommy, you want to keep him safe, you want to protect him. If you fuck it up because he's fucking your mouth, fine, that's your choice. Just don't bitch about it later. Don't you dare._' But he's not going to fuck it up. He's going to protect Adam from his father. He's going to, even if it's the last thing he ever does.


	8. Music

**Friday**

This is probably the first time in a long time that Tommy is glad he doesn't have any school today.

He wakes up early, dressing in a white tank-top, a green and blue plaid over shirt unbuttoned, and loose fitting black jeans. It's casual, it's comfy, and it covers the bruises from this week. He doesn't want Adam to see them anymore than he already has. He's got his shoes on, looking around his small room. Where is it… He saw it just last week, he knows that he did. '_C'mon, where are you at?_' He thinks to himself, shoving a few dirty articles of clothing aside before grinning ear to ear. There it is. He grabs his case and carries it over to his guitar, packing it quickly and fluidly.

Spinning on his heel, he grabs a pick out of a small jar from the floor, filled about half way with multi colored picks of various brands. He collects them, see. It's a hobby of his, and especially helpful considering he loses them a lot of the time. Pocketing the pick, he slings the guitar over his shoulder (thank God for the cloth case), and slipping out of his room. The house is quiet; his dad came home late last night, long after he and Adam returned to their houses. He faked sleep so as to not be bothered. Not that it mattered; Richard stumbled in, went to the bedroom, and passed out on the bed next to his mother.

Quickly jumping into the bathroom, Tommy checks his reflection in the mirror, running his fingers through his hair. He glances at his teeth and grimaces. He doesn't have time to brush them, he promised to meet Adam around, uh, now. He grabs the bottle of Listerine, uncaps it, and pours some of the contents straight into his mouth. He swishes and swirls the burning liquid in his mouth, before spitting it out. Good enough. He rinses out the sink and dashes out, hopeful to make an escape before anyone can hear him awake. If they find he's gone, they'll assume he's at school. They don't know his schedule, thank fuck.

Tommy passes through the dining room, into the living room, before grabbing his phone off of the table. Three steps and he's pulling the door open, slipping into the hot, Los Angeles morning, and closing the door quietly behind him. He glances over to the Lambert household, seeing Adam coming out of his own house as Tommy is. The blond smiles and he jumps off the porch, dashing across the lawn to meet Adam on the sidewalk. The ginger glances down, grinning wide as Tommy falls in step beside him.

Adam's wearing casual with a touch of nice. Light, grey t-shirt covered with a black, deep-V vest unbuttoned, faded blue jeans and black boots. His nails are painted black (something Tommy wishes he himself could do, but Richard would maim him for it), and there's a silver ring on his middle finger. Tommy reaches over, taking Adam's right hand in his left, and they lace their fingers together. His heart flutters in his chest and his breathing is light as Tommy leans his head briefly into Adam's shoulder, smiling softly. This is what he's been wanting to do all week.

Has it really only be so short of time?

"How'd you sleep?" Adam asks him as they walk further down the street. Ten am and the sun feels like it's mid afternoon. But Tommy kind of likes it. It's comforting, almost. Though he knows he's going to be a little crispy when he gets home today. Oh well.

"Good. Undisturbed." Shit. He didn't mean to say that. Though it was true… shit, shit.

"Why would you be disturbed?" Adam responds quickly, curious. Shit, shit, shit.

"No dreams, no noises. I'm usually a light sleeper." Tommy explains. It's not far from the truth. He is a light sleeper, but that's because he has to be. '_Or maybe you choose to be. After all, you've trained yourself to wake up at the slightest of noises, just in case she needs you. But Dad made it clear that if you try to help, you'll face consequences worse than death. Do you do it to torture yourself, Thomas? To listen to her screaming when you know you can't do anything about it?_' He shakes his head mentally. He doesn't want to think about any of that right now. Not when he's with Adam.

"Ah." They walk in silence for a few moments. Adam circles his thumb against the back of Tommy's hand, and the blond smiles slightly. It's comforting and warm. He likes the feel of Adam's hand in his. It's like it belongs there. Two puzzle pieces that have been missing each other's company for a long while. '_Tommy, shut the fuck up._' He tells himself, restraining from face-palming.

"You okay, baby?" Tommy shivers lightly at that. Baby? He's never been anyone's baby… And it's nice that Adam has nicknames for him already. They're not even dating. Hell, there's so many things that they aren't, but maybe that can be changed. Tommy can only hope as he looks over to the ginger, smiling and nodding once. He's more than okay. He's happy. Carefree. Oblivious to the aches of his back and chest because right now none of that matters to him. He's in the presence of an angel. An angel with beautiful blue eyes and strawberry blond hair.

"So, where're we going?" Adam asks him after another few moments, and Tommy smiles. He was planning on taking Adam back to the river side, but he decided against it at the last moment. He knows of another place to take the ginger. A place just as beautiful, if not more so.

"Somewhere special." Tommy says, and nothing more. Adam chuckles and shakes his head as they walk down the street, before veering down a path through a small park. They're about ten minutes walking from their neighborhood, so in the event of trouble, Tommy can get back easily and quickly. Yes, ten minutes walking. Five minutes or less running.

"Is that so?" Adam says with a small laugh, squeezing Tommy's hand as they continue onward. The park is a grassy area with picnic tables, a small playground, and dozens upon dozens of trees. Tommy leads Adam towards a cove-like area; a small circular gathering of trees with a pool of sunlight in the middle. It's secluded really, and few people bother to look around over here. It's perfect, and Tommy wants to spend time with Adam right here. Just the two of them and his guitar.

How romantic.

"Tommy—" Adam says in a breath, "this is beautiful." He stares at the small daises popping up in the sunlight, leaning their bright faces towards the light. Tommy lets go of Adam's hand and sits on a curve of the circle of light, facing the ginger. Adam's eyes gleam before he sits down closer to the center of the light, across from the blond. They're only a few inches away and Tommy pulls his guitar out of the case, plucking the pick from his pocket. He plays a few strings, old songs from previous years of work to warm up his fingers. Adam hums along to those he knows and smiles at Tommy when he doesn't.

"Okay…" Tommy says, strumming all six before looking up at the ginger, his heart fluttering. Adam looks so beautiful in this light. He has to remind himself to breathe, and he blushes, glancing away before looking back up shyly, his eyelashes fanning over his cheeks as he blinks a few times. "What do you wanna sing?" He asks. Adam gnaws briefly on his bottom lip, thinking about it. A soft breeze kicks up Tommy's hair, and he shakes he head to get his bangs out of his eyes.

"Surprise me." Adam says with a wide smile, his teeth gleaming. Tommy chuckles, and thinks for a moment. There's a lot of things that he could play, but he's not sure if Adam will know any of them. He licks his lips a little, settling on one he hopes Adam will know. He positions his fingers on the neck, taking a small breath, and playing softly. Chords, more than anything; beautiful intro. Aerosmith is full of geniuses.

Adam grins ear to ear, staring deeply at Tommy. But the blonde's head is bent over his guitar, his eyes closed as he feels the music flowing from his fingers. Adam sways slightly, feeling the words pooling on his tongue. He closes his eyes and opens his mouth, letting loose the first few words— _Every time that I look in the mirror_…

Tommy's eyes open quickly, playing evenly still despite the fact that he's awestruck by Adam's voice. So… He doesn't even have any words for it. He's simply awestruck. _All these lines in my face getting clearer, the past is gone_. His heart is pounding in his fingertips and Tommy is finding it hard to concentrate fully on his guitar. He's able to play without really thinking, because he's not thinking. But if he messes up or goes to fast, it's going to be a problem.

_It went by, like dusk to dawn. Isn't that the way everybody's got their dues in life to pay? Yeah, I know nobody knows where it comes and where it goes. I know, it's everybody's sin. You got to lose to know how to win. _Tommy swallows hard, keeping his head down and just listening to Adam's voice, his calloused fingers like gold on the strings, the pick flicking back and forth as he plays. He sways side to side, his neck loose as he bites down on his lower lip, swelling into the song before backing down again.

_Half my life's in book's written pages. Lived and learned from fools and from sages, you know it's true. All the things come back to you! Sing with me, sing for a year, sing for the laughter, sing for the tears. Sing with me now if it's just for today, maybe tomorrow the good Lord will take you away._ There was nothing more that Tommy wanted than to just leave. Leave this shit life he's had behind. He wants to take a bag of clothes, his guitar, his mother, Adam, Monte, and just go. His best friends. His family. To leave this nightmare behind.

Tommy stops playing. There's nothing to it, he just stops. And when he stops, so does Adam. The ginger's bright eyes lock on Tommy's face, but Tommy doesn't look at him. Not yet. He sets his guitar aside, placing the pick on the face, before taking a deep breath and look up at the singer. His heart is pounding in his chest, but he uncrosses his legs and leans forward, cupping Adam's face in his hands and pulling him close. Their lips mesh together like they belong, and Adam moans into Tommy's mouth, making the blond shiver.

He's never going to get over how amazing of a kisser Adam is. How sweet he tastes and just how _right_ it is to kiss him. Sure, if his dad every finds out he's gay, he's never going to hear or feel the end of it (not that he really wants to think about that second part). But right now, he doesn't care what anyone thinks or says. He cares about Adam. He loves kissing Adam, being with Adam, talking with Adam, spending a morning with Adam… He loves Adam's company.

'_Just say it._' No. He can't. He just can't yet.

Adam repositions himself and rolls Tommy over so that the blond is on his back, the ginger hovering above him. Tommy moans, his hands shifting up into Adam's red-blond hair, pulling on it gently. Their mouths move with one another as Tommy curls his leg around Adam's thigh, pulling him closer, their hips pressed together. Romantic and oh, so very hot.

'_Say it._' No. Not yet. He's… He's not ready to say something like that yet. A few more weeks, months. At the very least. But Adam's making it hard to keep that firm as his lips trail against Tommy's throat like a warm feather. He lolls his head to the side, exposing more of his skin to the ginger, and Adam takes the opportunity. He kisses Tommy's neck over and over, before doing something that the blond wasn't quite prepared for. His bares his white teeth and bites down, softly at first before sucking harder and harder each time. Tommy's back arches and his eyes roll into the back of his head as he moans gently.

'_Say. It._'

'_I love you_.'


	9. Kiss

**Friday**

Adam buys them both lunch. The bite marks are fresh on Tommy's neck, and he's got a little redness on his cheeks from them. But you know what? No one's paying any mind to them, and the boys take a booth in the back of the McDonald's by their high school. It's almost routine for them, to come here for lunch most every day. They come, they order, they pay, they sit, and they talk. They could talk for hours and hours really, but they only have forty minutes before they have to go back. But today's different. Today, they can talk for as long as they desire.

Tommy's really enjoying his day of no school.

With his guitar leaning against the wall in the boot, Tommy is biting into his McDouble. He sighs softly, chewing delicately and swallowing. He's gotta savor this. He doesn't always get the chance to eat dinner. Sometimes there's no food. Sometimes he's not hungry. Sometimes his dad's beating him too much to care about the natural pangs of hunger that he feels. So he treasures the food he gets during the day (if he gets any). Taking a large gulp of his soda (Coca cola for the win), he glances up at Adam and smiles. The ginger's got a light blush on his cheeks, and Tommy can still feel the phantom teeth digging into his neck. At first, when he'd realized what Adam was doing, he was afraid. Afraid because he knew his dad would see. But then he remembered the plaid over shirt he's wearing, and he's not worrying about it now.

Tommy rests his hand on the table, and Adam slides his over, their fingers lacing. In a silent agreement, back at the circle of trees, they made themselves official. One simple kiss and they were one. And they're happy. Who cares that they've only been really hanging out and talking for a week. There's a connection between them that no one else can try to comprehend. Tommy often wonders the intensity. He wonders why, of all people, Adam's attracted to him.

'_Maybe he knows, and this is a pity romance._' He mentally shakes his head. No. This isn't pity romance. This is real. This is something that they share because they care about each other. It has to be…

"Babe?" Adam says, his voice soft. "You okay?" Tommy blinks once and nods, a smile tugging at his lips. He's more than okay. He's just thinking too much, is all.

Adam gives Tommy's hand a gentle squeeze, keeping his fingers laced. Tommy's glad that Adam doesn't let go. He remembers the rush of cold he'd felt the first day he met Adam, when the ginger removed his arm from his shoulders because of a bit of pain. He doesn't want to experience that again, to be honest. It wasn't the best feeling in the world.

Tommy takes another bite of his food, thankful that today, McDonald's is a pretty quiet place. He hates crowds a lot of the time. Too many potential things to go wrong. Someone could bump into him, cause him pain, someone could decide to rough him up, put him into an even worse spot… He's not even sure of all of the reasons, but he knows that he hates crowds. He likes being alone with two or three people. And in this case, he's really loving it. It's just him and Adam in a quiet corner. And they're holding hands. Bonus.

Tommy's lost in a bit of thought, taking small, slow bites of his food and gulps of his soda. He's not sure what he's thinking about; perhaps spacing is the best word because he blinks and sees Adam waving a hand in his face. He swallows and chuckles, embarrassed. The ginger is laughing and smiling so brightly that Tommy forgets all of his embarrassment. He takes another drink of his soda, before blinking once and looking up at Adam.

"There you are— I was asking what your plans were for this weekend." Adam says.

'_Trying to survive_.' Tommy thinks, but he clenches his jaw on his tongue, keeping himself from letting the sentence slip. That would be a really, really bad thing to say in front of Adam. In front of anyone, for that matter. Tommy takes another drink.

"Probably nothing. Chilling at home more than anything. Maybe I'll clean my damn room, practice my guitar or something." He says. It's a lie though. He knows that. The weekends are never a time to chill, clean or practice. It's always a boatload of pain, making Monday's the worst days ever. He mentally shakes his head again. He doesn't want to think about it.

The look in Adam's eyes suggest that the ginger is suspicious of the blonde's answer. Shit. "Hmm. I was wondering if… Maybe you wanted to hang out… this weekend?" Adam looks so innocent…

"I can't." Tommy says a little too quickly, and he feels a stab of regret in his heart at the look on Adam's face. Shit. "I mean— I'm sorry, I should explain. My dad doesn't really like me going anywhere on the weekends." For a moment, Adam looks a little angry.

"Why?" The ginger asks, and if Tommy listens hard enough he can hear his teeth cracking from a clenched jaw. Shit.

"Because… Sometimes he needs me to do house cleaning," '_Sometimes he wants to beat the shit out of me and my mother,_' "or he just doesn't want me going anywhere." '_Or he feels like he's in the mood scream and yell at me while breaking bottles all over my room_.' Has Tommy ever mentioned how much he hates lying to Adam? Well he does, and right now he's losing his appetite because of it.

Adam sighs softly, nodding once. He's obviously a little upset about the fact that Tommy can't go, and the blond wishes dearly that he could. But he can't risk his mother's life. He can't risk anything more than he already has. And yet, all the same, the sad look in Adam's eyes sets a fire in his stomach that makes him want to risk it. He really, _really_ wants to spend the weekend, even part of it, with Adam. If Richard wasn't in the picture, Tommy knows for a fact that he would be able to. But he just can't…

They sit and eat in silence for a little while longer. It's a little unnerving, to be honest, the only sounds being of drinks drunk and food devoured. But that's how it is. And it's driving both of them insane. Four minutes into the awkward silence, Tommy feels Adam's thumb drawing circles into the side of his hand, and he shifts his gaze, watching. It's comforting, the way Adam's skin rubs against his. He smiles slightly, taking another drink before Adam squeezes his hand. Tommy looks up at the ginger, finding Adam smiling at him.

"Tell you what, maybe some other time we'll spend a weekend together?" He suggests, and Tommy grins. He'd love that greatly.

"Gotta run it by my dad, but it sounds good. He prefers things in advanced, you know?" Tommy lies, feeling the food roll over in his stomach, and he fights the bile that's rising. Ugh.

The light in Adam's eyes shifts to suspicion again, but it fades quickly and Tommy looks away, grabbing the wrapper from his burger with his free hand and crushing it into a ball, leaving it on his tray as he takes another sip. He hates the awkward silence and the rolling of his own stomach. He's really hoping that he doesn't puke right now. That would suck major balls.

They finish their food without much conversation. Grabbing his guitar, Tommy holds onto Adam's hand (the light blush still on his face) as they walk back out into the warm, smoggy Los Angeles air. But it's nice. A breeze kicks up Tommy's bangs, and they blow into his face. He tosses his head, and they disappear back to their proper place. He smiles slightly as they walk. They're not sure where they're going, exactly. But then again, they don't really care.

"So, what are you planning to do today?" Tommy asks. Adam blinks once before responding.

"Monte and I are supposed to get together and just chill today. Maybe jam a little bit. Wanna join us?" Adam asks, the tension from McDonald's clear from his eyes. Tommy bites on the inside of his cheek for a moment, before responding.

"I wish I could. Dad needs me home in a few hours…" Tommy says sullenly. No, Dad doesn't need him home, but he has to be. Dad believes that he's at school right now, and will be expecting Tommy as soon as school gets out. Adam looks a little miffed again, but doesn't push it. Tommy's somewhat thankful of this. He doesn't really want to keep lying.

Tommy pulls his hand free from Adam's grip and he pulls out his guitar again, the case hanging loose across his back, the guitar strap over his shoulder as he rests his hands into place. He plucks a few chords, smiling as Adam hums along softly. He wasn't sure what to make of the idea, but he's glad he decided to start playing as they walk. It releases the tension, he realizes. It's relaxing the stress in Adam's back, and the ginger is walking more naturally now. Yay.

He strums a little harder, and Adam smiles as he sings. It's obvious the ginger knows this song. It shouldn't surprise Tommy that he does, but he's still a little blown away by it. _Don't tell me you're done for, I don't need to hear you're done for. You can tell me what you are running from. I need you more than you need you. I can see you're really, really running. Can I ask you where you're gonna run to?_ Tommy keeps playing, keeping his head low as they walk, but his heart is pounding in his chest like a motherfucker and he wants to cry right about now.

But he doesn't. He keeps playing, holding back his angry tears as Adam continues to sing. _We all feel like we're breaking sometime, but I won't let you go tonight. Stay awake, stay awake, survive. I've got nineteen stars that I gave your name tonight. I wanna scream, wanna scream your name, starlight, my life can save, you're my wish tonight_… He feels a tear slip, and he glances over at Adam. He's lost in his own world of music and beauty. Thank God.

Tommy strums the bridge, skipping the second verse. What? He's allowed to do that. But he wonders if he regrets it as Adam sings, not missing a beat or throwing him an odd look. He simply sings. _No one can catch me the way that you catch me, the way that you keep me when I'm out of time. What if I need you when I can't see you, when I'm running out of life._ He gnaws on his bottom lip, strumming harder and into the chorus quickly. _Stay awake, stay awake, survive… I've got nineteen stars that I gave your name tonight… I wanna scream, wanna scream your name, starlight, my life can save… You're my wish tonight_.

Tommy stops playing after a moment, feeling the California heat drying his tears. He's really hoping that Adam doesn't look over at any given time. He's really, really hoping. He pushes his guitar around so that it hangs off his shoulders, strung across his back with the case. A breath escapes his lips and he looks up, confused for a moment. They're almost to their neighborhood. He blinks a few times, keeping his head down as if he's intrigued by his guitar. "I thought you and Monte were supposed to hang out today?" He asks softly, wondering if his voice sounds pained or not. He can't tell.

"Yeah, he's picking me up at home." Adam says gently, wrapping his arm around Tommy's waist and pulling the blond in tight. Tommy fights a cringe as Adam grips a bruise, and he gnaws on his bottom lip in protest. He can't show that he's in pain right now. He can't, he can't.

"Ah. What time is it?" The blond asks, and Adam shifts with his free hand, grabbing his phone and checking the time.

"Almost four." Holy shit they've been out for a while.

"Oh, shit." Tommy says suddenly, his heart pounding heavy in his chest. Adam looks concerned as he turns his head to face Tommy.

"Oh shit? Why, what's wrong?" Tommy swallows the lump in this throat.

"My dad was expecting me at three, I didn't realize we've been out so long…" He trails off. Oh, crap. Oh, crap. Adam's arm tenses and Tommy winces softly. He looks over at Adam through locks of his hair, and the ginger's got ferocious blue eyes locked on his face. Oh. Shit.

"There seems to be that a lot your dad expects of you." Adam hisses low, and he pulls Tommy closer still, unknowingly squeezing the blonde's hip. Tommy bites down on his tongue, fighting the urge to squirm out of Adam's grip. It's hurting so badly…

"He's just— a little overprotective." '_Overprotective to the abusive side_.' No. Don't think about that now.

"Tommy, I'm concerned about you. Sometimes, at school, I see you walking stiff and you don't like people touching you. I can understand personal space, but baby—" Adam stops Tommy, one hand gripping the blonde's shoulder the other cupping his face. Tommy's face heats exponentially, and it's not from the sunlight. "You've gotta let me know what's going on. I'm worried."

Moment of truth— he can tell Adam everything right now. They're not on their street. They're nowhere near Tommy's house yet. He can break down and fall into the ginger's arms _right now_ and all the pain he's been suffering will finally go away. He can be free. He and Allison can have a new start, a new life. They can get out of their shit neighborhood and they can find a new place. Though the idea of leaving Adam sets a rock in his stomach, Tommy wants to get out of Los Angeles. He wants to leave it all behind because he hates it. And all it's going to take is the wave of tears he's holding back and a few words about his father. That's all…

"Tommy— please, tell me. What's going on?" Adam asks, his voice a little desperate. Tommy's heart is _pounding _like a motherfucking jackhammer in his chest and he can feel the scream of 'help me' rising in his throat. He wants to, he wants to, he wants to, he wants to…

But can he?

"Baby—" Adam doesn't say anything else as Tommy's hands cup the ginger's face, and he kisses Adam so gently. There's no tongue, no hair pulling, no nothing (though they've done such heated actions before). Just chaste and sweet. Tommy feels a tear swelling and spilling over from his closed eyes, and it rolls down his cheek, sliding like a work of art.

If anyone were to see them now, they'd be stared at. Fortunately, gayness isn't so frowned upon, but it's still a little awkward in some people's eyes (and Tommy firmly believes that they can go suck it if they have a problem with it). But there's no one else around. It's just them, on a sidewalk near an empty field. It's just them…

The hand of Adam's that's gripping Tommy's shoulder removes itself and cups his face as Tommy's hands slide down, placed firmly on Adam's chest. Slowly, Adam's tongue glides across Tommy's bottom lip, tasting like a cool treat to the blond. He opens his mouth slightly, shivering as the ginger's tongue slips inside. His heart is beating up into his throat, screaming at him to tell Adam anything and everything. Just to end the nightmare. To end the torture. But the fearful side of himself is saying no. '_If you tell, you're father will hunt you down. He won't stop until you and Allison are de—_.'

Adam holds the kiss for a moment before pulling away, resting his forehead against Tommy's gently, breathing hard. Tommy's hands are trembling, and he wants to curl into his baby's arms and cry. God. It takes just a few words and a few tears and then this'll all disappear like a cloud of smoke. A few uttering's of the past and he'll be living somewhere warm and safe.

'_I love you_.'

'_I. Love. You._'

"Everything's fine, baby. I promise."

'_I'm sorry…_'


	10. Who?

**Friday**

"Get in the house, you little shit!"

Adam's gone. Monte was turning onto their street as they crossed the sidewalk. Tommy had given Adam a quick kiss and a reassuring hug that everything _really_ was okay. And as he watched them speed off down the street, he felt his heart plummeting. And he's feeling his heart plummeting more and more (with his stomach) as he nears his house. His feet shuffle through the almost dead grass and his guitar feels heavy against his back. He keeps his head low as he climbs the steps, cringing and groaning as Richard runs his meaty fingers through Tommy's hair, gripping and pulling sharply on it.

He doesn't fight while being dragged into the house. He doesn't fight when his dad throws him to the floor. But he's put into a different world of perspective when he looks up and see his mother sprawled and unconscious by the table. His heart lurches to his throat and he tries to scramble forward, the neck of his guitar banging on the wood as he crawls to her. But Richard grabs his ankle and holds him back. Whimpering, he's pulled away from his mother.

"Where do you think you're going, eh?" Tommy can smell the alcohol as his guitar is ripped off his back and chucked across the room. He hears it shatter before he sees it, and he wants to cry. Allison, his music… What more can his dad take from him now?

"That's right— nowhere." He's flipped over onto his back, just in time for Richard to slam his booted foot into Tommy's gut. The breath slammed out of him, he coughs hard and rough, wheezing. His head is spinning as Richard kneels down, his fingers grabbing Tommy by the throat.

"You lied to me, you little fuck. Told me you were gonna be at school. So, why'd you leave your shit here?" Tommy thinks about his backpack, and he wants to put his head through a wall. He had a bad feeling that he'd forgotten something. He should have known. Fuck, he should have known!

Richard's fingers trail over a bite mark, and Tommy shivers, his eyes widening. Oh no. No, no, no, no! Tommy watches as his dad's eyes cloud over for a moment, before shifting back to his face. There's a look that chills Tommy's core and makes him want to curl away and just _die_. Fingers tighten around his throat and Tommy's lifted off of the ground by his neck, his face inches from his father's rancid breath and angry aura.

"You someone's bitch, Thomas?" He's shaking and not wanting to look his father in the eye. He can't. He's afraid that his eyes will reveal everything. Richard snarls and drops him to the floor. His back hits first and he curls into a slight ball, cringing and groaning. He glances over at Allison, seeing her chest rising and falling so shakily. Today is just the day from hell, isn't it?

"You're someone else's bitch!" One, two, three— five? Seven, eleven? He loses count of the kicks as they come over and over, making him cough and choke on air. No, he's not anyone's bitch. He's someone's baby, yes, but he's not going to say that, now is he?

"No!" Tommy coughs, covering his stomach with his arm. His dad kicks him in the wrist, and he feels a pop, before he screams. Fire shoots through his hand and up his arm, throbbing with excruciating intensity that springs tears in his eyes. He cradles his arm against his chest, turning away as best he can from his dad. But he knows it doesn't matter. Everything is hurting and now he's put Adam in danger.

'_Adam… No…_'

"Who is it, fuckwad? Who's got you bending backward?" He's not going to say. He refuses to say. He's not going to put Adam into this. He's… He can't. Tommy just can't do that. It's bad enough that Adam's suspicious of his home life, and now his dad knows there's someone else involved. Richard grabs his cradled arm and pulls it free, slamming it down on the floor. He presses the ball of his boot into Tommy's wrist, and the blond screams again. "_Who?_"

'_Don't say it, don't say it. Don't say Adam's name._' He thinks to himself, breathing heavily through his nose, his jaw clenched tightly. He closes his eyes, keeping his breathing as even as— his dad is adding pressure to his wrist and he unlocks his jaw, screaming a little louder than he was before. Fuck, his throat is aching and burning just a bit. What a way to end the perfect morning slash early afternoon. Awesome.

"Who, Thomas?" Richard's voice is so low and calm. The wash of alcoholic breath makes him want to vomit, but he chokes back his gag. Richard's hand whips across his face, the rigid knuckles hitting the top of his cheek bone, just below his right eye. Tommy bites down on his tongue, coughing and growling as the boot's pressed into his wrist further. Richard hits him again, and he tastes blood. He's not sure if he's bitten his tongue or scratched his lip. He squeezes his eyes shut, swallowing his tongue. He can't say, he can't say— but fuck, his wrist is killing him…

"A—" he finds himself slipping.

"Richard, stop it!" Allison says weakly. Clamping his jaw shut again, Tommy glances over at her. When did she wake up? Maybe she was never out to begin with? He's not sure. But she's sitting up, leaning against the couch. Her shoulders are bruised and her lip is cut lightly. Tommy's eyes soften at the sight of her. She's beat up, but it's nothing compared to the things that have happened earlier this week.

His dad's foot lifts off of his wrist and Tommy gasps, cradling his arm into his chest again and he starts to slowly crawl away. Richard's not paying any attention to him. He watches as Richard grabs her by her hair and pulls her to her feet, slapping her in the face. His teeth grind and he swings his leg at his father's ankle, his shoes colliding with the part of his leg that isn't covered by his boot. Richard stumbles slightly.

"Stop hurting her!" Tommy screams, kicking his dad again. Richard turns and grabs an empty bottle from the table, leaning down and smashing it against Tommy's shoulder, the shards scraping him through his shirt. He squeezes his eyes shut and chokes on a scream as pieces cut into the skin of his collar bones and his face.

"Shut up, bitch." His dad snarls, using the top half of the bottle and cutting Tommy's thigh. It's not deep, but it still hurts. But now he realizes he's got to get out of here, even for a little while But he doesn't want to leave Allison. However, he can't stay. His heart is pounding in his chest as he scoots himself farther away, slow and steady though. He looks away when he hears Richard's hand hits her face. He can't watch. He pulls himself to his feet, breathing lightly as he stumbles to the door. He looks back, seeing his mother's eyes through the wall that is his father. '_Go_.' She's telling him. He mouths an '_I'm sorry_' to her, turning the knob and pulling the door open. He jumps through the opening, running across the lawn and ignoring the pains he's feeling. Richard's screaming at him to come back, but he's not listening. He's running full on to get away.

'_I'm sorry, Mom. I'm so sorry…_' He thinks to himself, hauling ass down the street. It's a good thing he's in as great of shape as he is. He can run and run and not give a damn about how long it's going to take or how far he has to go. He needs to go, he needs to go far. Maybe he'll come back when things have calmed down.

'_Are you kidding? The moment you set foot back into that house is the moment you die, Thomas. Things aren't going to calm down._' He pushes himself, keeping a fast and steady pace as he runs down the street, passing the empty field and heading towards… wherever. He just needs to get away. Somewhere safe, somewhere that's familiar but strange all the same. Somewhere where he's not afraid that he's going to wake up to screams or someone beating on his already breaking figure.

'_You're running away and you're leaving Allison in danger._' He begins to breathe through his mouth, his heart pounding in his chest as the world passes him by. He's not really paying any attention to where he's going. He can't worry about where he's at yet, because he's not far enough. But then again, he's not sure how far is far enough. Maybe when he passes out he'll know.

'_Your own mother, Thomas. You're always so bent on keeping her safe. And ever since you met Adam, you've cared less and less about that ambition. You're all about keeping Adam safe and unaware of your problems at home._' He's panting a little harder now, sweat pooling in his hair and sliding down his face. Fuck, it's hot out here today. And it's only four— five something, right? He's not really caring about the time right now though. He's trying to get the thoughts of what might be happening to his mother out of his head right now.

'_What if he's killing her? What if he's beating her with a broken bottle?_' Tommy stumbles on a small rock and goes down on his hands and knees, skidding a little bit. He chokes as the pavement scratches his palms and tears open his jeans a little bit. Pain flares up his entire arm from his wrist and he growls, clenching his jaw. Ow. He breathes heavily, sweat sliding off his face and dripping onto the ground. His heart is beating heavily in his chest and he's shaking from head to toe.

'_What if he's forcing himself upon her again?_' No, he can't think about that. That… That day was a day from hell. He doesn't… no.

He pushes himself up onto his feet again, pumping his arms at his sides as he takes off running steadily, the wind blowing in his face and throwing his hair around his head. His clothes are sticking to him, but he doesn't really care right now. He's got to get farther away. He stares straight ahead, the blood in his mouth bitter, and when he reaches up to wipe his face, his lips sting. Yeah. He scratched his lips. Awesome.

Grimacing, he slows to an easy walk, his hands on the back of his head as he breathes deeply through his nose, closing his eyes as he walks. His head is spinning and his heart is making him want to collapse and pass out. It's too fast. There's too much going on in his mind and he wants to stop and cry. His mother could be dying. He's run away from home. He's in love with Adam. But his mother could be _dying_. Fucking hell.

He's crossing a street, uncaring that it's technically jay-walking considering the light's red, but oh well. If he gets hit, so be it. '_No… Allison needs you. Adam needs you, don't think like that._' But really… If he were to die, with the exception of Adam and his mother, no one would care or notice. And then he would be at peace. He'd be safe… '_But think of Adam and your mother. They need you. They love you. They care about you._'

Adam. God. He sighs, dropping his arms and opening his eyes, staring at his feet. He's almost across the street. Where's he gonna go now?

"Tommy?" He stops, turning his head towards the source, the angel. Adam's standing by the open passenger door of a car, Monte's at the wheel. The ginger's eyes are wide, concerned before flashing fear at the sight of Tommy's bruised and bloodied face. The blond looks down at the ground, drained and emotionless. Footsteps come to him and Adam's hands lift his face up, and he's looking up into his baby's eyes.

"Baby—" Adam pulls him into an embrace, and he feels tears brushing against his skin. Adam's… crying? Why is his baby crying?

"Adam?" Tommy mutters weakly, his voice cracking. Adam pulls away and takes Tommy's hands, watching with a fearful gaze as Tommy hisses at his wrist. The ginger guides him to the car, and they slid into the backseats as Monte reaches over and pulls the passenger door shut.

"Baby— baby, what… who did… Tommy…" Adam can't finish a sentence as Tommy curls up into Adam's arms, tears rolling down his face.

'_Your mother could be _dying_ and you're running off with Adam. Dad's right. You're nothing but his little bitch_.' He chokes, cradling his injured wrist as he closes his eyes.

'_I'm not his bitch. I love him._'


	11. Dream

**Friday**

Adam doesn't say a word when they get to Monte's apartment. And peroxide stings, as he learns really quickly from sitting on the edge of the bathroom tub, Adam kneeling in front of him with the bottle and cotton balls doused, dabbing at his face. But he doesn't make a complaint about it. The stinging means that it's working. That he's getting cleaned up, because hey, he's a little beat up. Cuts in his shoulder, on his face, and on his left thigh. But at least these are the only spots, other than his lip (they don't really want to chance putting peroxide there. Safety reasons, you know?)

Chemicals aside, Adam grabs an ace bandage off of the toilet seat, where he had left it after coming into the bathroom with Tommy. He takes it and unwraps it slowly, gently taking Tommy's hand in his and wrapping the blonde's wrist. Tommy winces, biting on his lower lip, but keeping mind of the small cut. His wrist feels like it's on fire, but he doesn't want to really alarm Adam right now. The redhead is lost in his own world, his eyes distant, disturbed.

The bandage is wrapped around Tommy's wrist, and the blond looks up at Adam again, his face a mask of apology. Adam blinks once, sighing heavily as he leans forward, pulling Tommy to his feet and hugging him tightly, but careful of his baby's bruises. Tommy buries his face into Adam's neck, choking back tears. He hates crying. He hates it so much but he's so sick of all of this. He hates being so broken, and now there's nothing to hide from Adam. The redhead had made him strip down into just a pair of shorts to see the damage, and for the first time, Tommy had shown his suffering to someone other than himself.

Initially, Adam wanted to take Monte's car and drive at terrifying speeds back to Tommy's house and beat the shit out of Tommy's father. But Tommy told him it was fine, not to be reckless, not to worry about it now, because he's safe. And now here they are, not speaking at all and Adam's holding Tommy and shaking with tears. Tommy doesn't really know why Adam's crying, but he's got a pretty good feeling and he really doesn't want to ask Adam about it. He just holds onto the redhead, letting his own tears fall into his angel's shirt.

"Tommy… Why didn't you tell me sooner?" Adam whispers into the blonde's ear, his voice cracking with pain and anger. Tommy closes his eyes, breathing hard. He doesn't say anything. There are a lot of reasons that he doesn't say anything about it; to Adam or any official. It's because he's afraid. He's afraid that if he tells, it'll just be a waste of time and hope and that it'll just keep happening. He's afraid that if he calls the police, Richard will find a way out and come to haunt them again. He's afraid that if he lets anyone in, Richard's going to hurt them too…

That last reason… That's why he never says anything.

"I didn't want him hurting you." He says gently, his body trembling in Adam's arms. The redhead kisses Tommy's forehead, murmuring in his ear softly, before pulling him slowly out of the bathroom, and into the second of two small bedrooms. There's a decent sized bed hugging the wall, a side table and a dresser. Tucked in a corner is a guitar case, closed and locked, but Tommy doesn't pay any mind to it. He's tired. He's in pain. And he just wants to be next to Adam and do nothing but talk and kiss.

Almost immediately, Tommy lays down, snuggling into Adam's arms and closing his eyes slowly. Adam's breathing is soft, still a little shaky from crying and Tommy looks back up at his angel. Adam smiles weakly at him, stroking his hair a little, before pulling him into a kiss. It's sweet, gentle, just the thing Tommy needs to feel a little better about being here and not protecting his mother. Fuck, Allison… Tommy pulls away quickly, biting down on his bottom lip and burying his face into Adam's chest again.

"Baby?" Adam's voice is soft, concerned.

"My mom." Tommy answers just as quietly, breathing deeply through his mouth and clinging onto Adam. He's scared. He's scared that by being here she's going to die. He's scared that if he goes back it's just going to get worse and that he'll never see Adam again. He's so scared and he's shaking all over again. Adam's arms tighten around him and he can't stop the tears rolling down his face.

"Baby, it's… It's going to be okay." Adam says, thinking as he speaks. "You'll stay here for a few days, and we'll go back, we'll get your mom, and we'll just leave. We'll get out of Los Angeles. You, me, Monte and your mom, and we'll just go."

Tommy chokes a little, sniffing. As much as he loves the idea of just getting the hell out of Los Angeles, it's impossible. "We can't, Adam. It's not that simple. We're still in high school. We don't have jobs. Where would we go?"

"I… I don't know." Adam chuckles, but it's flat. "Wishful thinking, I guess." He says, kissing Tommy's forehead.

They're both silent for a few moments, simply breathing, and Tommy wonders for a second if Adam's fallen asleep. But the redhead sighs heavily after a while, stroking Tommy's hair and his arms tighten a little more. He's just restless, probably thinking. The room is quiet, undisturbed. Tommy closes his eyes, burying his face into Adam's chest further, breathing in the scent of his baby. He likes it here. It's warm, cozy, and quiet. It's safe. It's… nice. He closes his eyes. It's so nice…

_He's sleep so peacefully. He can feel Adam's arms around him and it's just right. He smiles to himself, nuzzling closer. Adam laughs softly, planting gentle kisses on Tommy's face and in his hair, his hands rubbing the blonde's back easily. Tommy opens his eyes, looking up into Adam's face. There's a kind of life and light there that makes his heart swell and he kisses Adam slowly. The redhead's tongue trails over his bottom lip, slipping inside his mouth. He moans, reaching up and pulling on Adam's hair, bringing himself closer to his angel. His baby. _

_Adam pulls away, breathing hard as he leaves kisses along Tommy's neck, nipping here and there and making the blond shiver. It's so nice. He smiles, gasping once as Adam bites down on a sensitive spot, right on the underside of his jaw. He shivers, his hands sliding down and gripping the redhead's shoulders. Adam kisses the mark, before pecking Tommy on the lips. The blond looks up, smiling at Adam. Adam's gaze shifts, up passed Tommy, and his smile fades._

"_Tommy, look out—" Adam begins to say, and Tommy feels hands pulling him away from his baby, throwing him across the room. He hits the dresser, his back catching a knob before he falls to the floor, moaning. Adam's shouting, and he lifts his head, seeing his father's back. No, no, no!_

"_You little bitch." Richard shouts, grabbing Adam by the front of his shirt and pulling him off the bed. Tommy scrambles to get up, but something's holding him back. He whines, tugging against the strange force when he looks down, seeing arms around his waist. Who the fuck is holding him! He turns his head, seeing his mother, broken, defeated, and on the verge of death. She's holding him so tightly, her face is bruised and bloody._

"_Why did you leave me, Tommy?" She asks, her voice cracking in pain. Tommy cries out, saddened at the state of his mother and frightened all the same. He looks back to Adam, watching in horror as Richard is kneeing him in the stomach repeatedly. No, his angel! Adam!_

"_Adam!" Tommy screams, and the redhead lifts his gaze. His lip is bleeding and he looks weak, his _face_ twisting into pain as Richard knees him again. Adam coughs hard, and Tommy can feel tears streaming down his face. His mother's arms tighten around him, and she's pulling him away from Adam._

"_Why did you leave, Tommy?" Her voice is dripping like poisonous honey into his ear and he's thrashing to get out of her grasp. Richard's got a beer bottle in his hand, and he's holding Adam by the throat against the wall. But Tommy's getting farther and farther away. He tries to pry his mother's arms off of him, but she's so strong… _

"Why, Tommy?_" She screams at him. The glass shatters over Adam's head, and Tommy sees that his baby can barely keep his eyes open._

"_Tommy…" Adam mutters, and the blond watches as Adam gets farther away. He watches as Richard takes the jagged edges of the top half of the bottle, and plunges them deep into Adam's stomach…_

"_No!" _

"Tommy! Tommy, baby, wake up!" Tommy gasps, breathing hard and thrashing in Adam's arms. Adam's leaning over him, holding his shoulders, his face in worry. Tommy slowly stops, shaking all over as he looks up at Adam. No bruises, no exhaustion, no blood… Oh thank God… He chokes on a breath, blinking over and over as Adam pulls him up into a sitting position. One arm goes around his waist, the other snakes up his back, Adam's palm pressed firmly into the back of his head. Tommy curls himself into a ball in Adam's lap, his face buried into Adam's neck, and he sobs.

"Tommy, shh, Tommy… Baby it was just a dream. It's just a dream…" But that doesn't stop Tommy's tears. They keep coming and he can't stop shaking either.

That's never happened. Usually when he dreams, there's nothing. Nothing but darkness. Darkness and warmth. But this… This is the worst thing he's ever faced. Worse than any beating. His heart is pounding like mad and he can't stop the choked screams that are muffled into Adam's shirt. It was so real, that's what is scaring him the most right now. It was so real, watching his father… His mother… Adam… _Adam._

"Tommy, baby, please tell me what happened…" Adam says softly, and Tommy shakes his head. He can't. He can't tell; it'll be like he's watching it again. Tears stream down his face and into Adam's clothes and he keeps shaking his head back and forth even when Adam doesn't ask him. Adam's arms are soothing and Tommy feels lips pressing into his face and his hair.

"Please…" Tommy can feel Adam's heart pounding against his face. Adam's scared. He's scared because Tommy's scared, and that only makes the blond cry harder. But eventually the shakes and the sobs die out, and it's soft. He's breathing hard and his throat hurts, but he's not wanting to scream anymore. He's silent, leaning against Adam. Adam doesn't say anything for a while, he just holds Tommy in his arms, not letting him go. It's all Tommy needs, to know his baby is right here.

But does he really want to tell? He knows he should, because Adam needs to know. He needs to tell Adam to make things better, but he's afraid. This is exactly the kind of thing he's been trying to avoid at all costs. He doesn't want Adam getting hurt. He would never be able to live with himself if Richard laid a hand on his angel. He blinks once, inhaling slowly, his fingers curling into Adam's shirt.

"My father was beating you…" He says softly, and Adam takes a sharp breath in. "My mother was broken, almost dead… She was pulling me away from you, asking me why I left her… And… My father… He kept… hitting you… over and over." Tommy's voice is dead, flat. He's calm as he says this because he doesn't want to get worked up again. Adam's arms tighten around him, and he exhales, blinking slowly. He decides to leave out the stabbing. That would just be too much for both of them.

"My God…" Adam whispers, pressing his lips into Tommy's hair again. He's trembles a little, another tear rolling down his face as he closes his eyes.

'_See what you've done? You've let him in. He knows and now you're putting him at even more risk than before. You're so selfish, Tommy._' He bites down on his bottom lip, his teeth nicking the cut and opening it again. He winces, sucking the blood off of his lip. It's bitter.

'_He needs to know though. He would have found out eventually._' He doesn't really know what to do now. He knows for certain that he doesn't want to go back home. But Allison's still there. He needs to. For her. He needs to go back. But, at this rate, he doesn't think Adam will let him.


	12. Need

**Saturday**

When he wakes again, there's morning light streaming through the small bedroom window. He blinks a few times, indecisive about whether or not he should get up or just stay right here under the warmth of this blanket. He turns his head, his eyes falling upon his angel's sleeping face, and he smiles. Adam looks so pretty when he's asleep; so relaxed and carefree of the world. Tommy leans over slowly, trying to disregard the pains shooting through his body as he moves, and he kisses Adam's freckled lips. The redhead's lower lip twitches, the corner of his mouth pulling into a smile, and Tommy wonders what he's dreaming about.

As much as he hates it, he shifts in Adam's arms again, and the redhead wakes up, blinking slowly before smiling at the blond. He leans over, kissing Tommy gently, before pulling away again, their lips making a soft pop sound. "Good morning, baby." Adam says tiredly, squinting a little as his eyes adjust. Tommy smiles at him, kissing his angel again. Adam tastes nice.

"Good morning." He says back. He feels warm and safe here, and he doesn't want to leave, but he knows that he has to. He has to get home and make sure that Allison's okay. Maybe he'll take up Adam's offer from yesterday. Maybe, if he can arrange it with Monte, he'll bring her here. Then Richard can't hurt them. His heart swells at the idea, but he's not sure of how to tell Allison of that plan without them getting caught. Because he's almost more than certain that Richard's still going to be there if and when he does eventually go back home.

He sighs softly, burying his face into Adam's chest. But for right now, he doesn't want to move. He wants to stay, right here, in Adam's arms for as long as he can before better reason takes the best of him. He smiles to himself, trying to forget that he needs to be somewhere and instead enjoy the fact that he's in his angel's arms and he's safe right now. And Adam knows… Not that he exactly wanted that to happen, but there really wasn't any sort of avoiding that.

Eventually though, reasoning does grab him, along with the need to eat something. When was the last time he ate? Friday afternoon? Right. Lunch with Adam. And then nothing after that. Heh, oops. Sorry, stomach.

Tommy lifts his head and kisses Adam on the cheek, inhaling slowly as he starts to move again. The redhead frowns at him as he sits up slowly, wincing now and then. But at least the pain's tolerable. Adam's arms reach out for Tommy again, his hands sliding over the blonde's hips, and Tommy chuckles. But he would gladly lie back down with his lover again, if he could. Except he has to get up, he has to go. He doesn't want to, but he knows that he has to.

"Adam, I've gotta get up." He says softly, and Adam moans in protest, trying to pull him back down again. He smiles, chuckling, before managing to slip out of the redhead's hands. He turns, leaning down and kissing Adam, his tongue slipping into the ginger's mouth for a few moments before he pulls away, pecking his lover once. "I've gotta go." He whispers against Adam's mouth, and the ginger tenses under him.

"No." Adam says, and it's a bit harsh, but Tommy understands the reasoning behind it. Tommy understands completely, and he doesn't blame Adam in the slightest. But he kisses Adam's cheek, standing straight up and beginning to turn away, to head to the living room.

"I have to." He says, his voice a little flat, and Adam rips the covers off of himself, swinging his legs off the bed and sitting on the edge, his eyes alert and a little angry. His shoulders are tense and Tommy stops, staring at the ginger, gnawing on his bottom lip. He doesn't want to do this, but he has to.

"No, Tommy. I won't let you go." Adam hisses, his usual bright, blue eyes dark. Pooling like clouds before an angry storm, his hands clench the edge of the bed, the knuckles going white.

"I need to make sure my mom's okay." Tommy explains, turning again and starting to head out of the bedroom. Adam sighs and stands up, reaching out and grabbing Tommy by the wrist. The blond whips his head around, and Adam's grip tightens. His heart pounds in his chest at the feeling of Adam's fingers clenching around his thin bones, and he stares into those enraged blue seas.

"I. Won't. Let. You." Each word makes his heart thrash just a little more, and Tommy inhales slowly, relaxing and telling himself that Adam just doesn't want him to get hurt. He can tell in the tone of Adam's voice that the redhead doesn't want to promise he'll be back and then be unable to. He understands that, but he has to go. He exhales that breath just as slowly, blinking once before looking back up at Adam again.

"I'm just gonna go pack some things, grab my school stuff, tell my mom, and I'll be back before you know it. I'm not going to stay there." The blond explains, pulling his wrist out of Adam's hold and turning away again, leaving Adam in the bedroom. He walks down the hallway towards the living room. He glances to his left, seeing Monte standing in the kitchen, holding a bowl of cereal in his hands. He looks over at Tommy, nodding once. Good morning.

"Monte, can you do me a favor?" Tommy asks, grabbing his shoes and shoving his feet into them, lacing them loosely, his fingers working nimbly to form simple knots. The excess of the laces are shoved into the insides of his shoes, between the material and his bare feet. Monte raises an eyebrow, but nods once, swallowing his bite of food before setting the bowl down on the counter, wiping his hands on his jeans and crossing into the small living room of the apartment.

"Sure, what's up?" He asks, and Tommy stands up straight after getting his shoes tied. Adam's standing in the archway of the hall, his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes, burning, locked on Tommy. Tommy doesn't look at him, not yet anyway. He doesn't want to face that burning wrath in Adam's eyes. Not when he can avoid it. He can't get sidetracked. He hast to get home, to tell Allison. To grab some things.

"I need you to take me home so I can grab some stuff, let my mom know what's going on." Monte's eyes narrow a little, and he looks at Adam. Tommy doesn't want to look over, but he does anyway, his heart cracking at Adam's expression. The ginger isn't at all pleased with this plan. He looks extremely angry, and, if Tommy's not mistaken, borderline sadness too. Tommy crosses over to Adam, placing his hand on his angels' cheek.

"Baby, I'll be fine and back before you know it." He says. But the pounding in his heart isn't convincing him really that everything's going to go as smoothly as he's trying to convince Adam that it will. Adam's eyes flick over to Tommy's face, and the blond is almost certain he can see tears beginning to form in them.

"Please, Tommy… We'll lend you some clothes and we'll call your mom, but please…" Tommy's heart is breaking little by little at the sight of Adam. The ginger really, really doesn't want him to go. And he doesn't blame him. But Tommy has to. There's something back home that he needs. He can't live without it.

"I'm sorry." Tommy says, leaning in and kissing Adam gently, before turning and crossing to the front door, pulling it open and stepping out. Monte's not far behind him, the older male pulling the door shut before walking with Tommy down a small path towards where Monte's car is sitting, parked. Tommy pulls the passenger door open, slipping inside as Monte climbs into the driver's seat, starting the engine and pulling out of the parking space, heading out to the street.

There's no talking between them as Monte drives, and Tommy's watching other cars and buildings blur by; his head's a mess. He's hoping, with every fiber in his being that it's going to run smoothly. Maybe his dad won't be awake. Hell, maybe his dad won't even be home. He hopes for it, but he figures it's asking too much. His main prayer is that Allison's still alive, that's she's okay. That, while he was gone, she isn't… God. He can't think about that right now.

Mental check list; few days worth of clothes, school supplies, at least a pack of cigarettes, maybe two or three. Does Adam smoke? He doubts it. Adam's a singer. Fuck, his head's all over the place right now. What else? Hmm, CD's that he likes, if he can manage them. Maybe pictures of his mom. No, he's not going to have time to look for those. But the number one item above all; his bass that he got for his birthday when he was ten, before everything was really bad. Beautiful blue, he loves it. He's going to get it. He needs it.

'_Maybe this isn't such a good idea. Maybe… Maybe Adam's right. You should tell Monte to turn around, to go back. You don't need it…_' But he does. It's the only thing his father got him that he still treasures dearly. It's the one thing that reminds him that his father used to be a good person.

'_Just be careful. Adam needs you. If you go back and you're anything less than exactly as you were when you left, he's going to hunt your father down. And you know this._' He does know. He just has to hope that everything goes smoothly, and that he won't have to worry. He's crossing his fingers and _praying_ that his dad isn't home. Because then he can get Allison out without a problem too.

"Here we are," Monte says, pulling up between the Lambert and Ratliff residencies. Tommy sighs, staring at the dead lawn and the shitty state his house is in. He has to go in there. He's here now, he has to go. At the very least to grab his bass and tell his mother he loves her and that he'll get her out one way or another. Whether it's today or tomorrow, he's not sure yet. Maybe it won't be for a week or a month. But he'll do it.

"Thank you, Monte." Tommy says, starting to get out of the car when Monte grabs his arm, stopping him again. Tommy turns to face the older man, and he sees nothing but concern and a little bit of fear.

"Look, I don't like this anymore than Adam does. But I swear to God, Tommy, if I hear _anything_ that sounds… off, I'm coming in there." Monte says, and Tommy nods once. He's not sure when Adam told him, but quite frankly, he doesn't give a shit. He just needs to get in and get back out before it's too late.

"I'll be fine, Monte." Tommy says, but even he's not sure of this entire plan. He slips out of the car, closing the door quietly and rushing across the lawn. He's hoping with every breath and every fiber in his being that, if his dad _is_ home, he's at the very least passed out. He can't go in there when his dad's still awake, otherwise he's never getting out and Adam… Adam would probably be unable to live with himself.

He shivers, climbing the porch quietly. He stops by the door, inhaling slowly. He can do this. He has to do this. For himself, for his mother, for Adam. He can do this. He grips the door knob, turning it slowly and pushing the door open. His heart is pounding in his chest and he feels sweat on the back of his neck. He can do this. He steps inside, leaving the door open just a little— in case he needs a quick get-a-way.


	13. Failure

**Saturday**

He dashes to his room as fast as he can, uncaring of the living room, or any room really, for that matter. He needs to be fast about all of this because he's not sure just how much time he has to do this. Whether it's five minutes or twenty-five minutes, he needs to hurry. He turns right, into the small hall before turning left into his room. It's exactly as he left it on Friday. Clothes askew, blankets halfway across the room. He's gonna miss it like crazy. He doesn't know if he's ever going to come back, but he really doubts it.

He rips through his room, grabbing things left and right. He's rushing to get everything and anything he needs. He's lost count of the shirts, the pants, and the boxers, even the occasional pair of socks that he manages to come across. He pulls a box out that's tucked into a corner under a pile of old magazines and some discarded pieces of clothing. It's not much, but it's something. He rips the lid off, pulling the small wad of cash out and shoving it into his back pocket. His heart is pounding in his chest and there's thin sheet of sweat pooling in his hairline. It's hot, but he manages to get the necessities packed into a single backpack. His bass is locked up tight in its hard case, sitting in the corner of his room. He grabs it, holding tight to both.

On silent toes he creeps out of his room and practically crawls to the door. He didn't notice before because he was too busy trying to get to his room. But his dad is snoring like a motherfucker on the couch, beer bottles and cigarette butts littered all over the floor around him. It's a disgusting sight, but Tommy doesn't look. But it would be so easy to just take one of those bottles and smash it on his dad's head. He could take the jagged edges and put an end to all this misery. No one would miss his father. And maybe, just maybe, the judge would let him off the hook or at least on a light sentence because of good duty.

No, he can't think like that now. Homicidal thoughts can be dwelled upon later, he decides. He puts everything onto the porch. He looks at Monte, motioning to the items. The older man nods from the car, getting out. He's going to grab Tommy's things for him. Before stepping back into the house, he sets the door ajar just enough for his quick get-a-way. He needs to tell Allison before he goes.

He's learned well from the past, and Tommy's sneaky like a ninja as he creeps back through the living room, passing through the dining room and into the kitchen, heading towards his parent's bedroom. He can see Allison lying in bed. He can see her brilliant blonde hair fanning around her head like a golden halo. He feels really bad about leaving her, but he has to do it. He promises himself that he'll come back for her though. He's not going to abandon her completely. He just can't do that to her.

He slips into the darkness of the room, crossing to the bed and his hand rests itself upon her shoulder. Her eyes open instantly, focusing on him, and she gasps. She leaps from her resting, and throws her arms around him, her legs still tucked under the covers. Tommy's arms wrap around his mother and he buries his face into the crook of her neck, his fingers running through her hair. She's shaking, holding back sobs, and he can hear his heart breaking in two. She thought he wouldn't come back. But all the same, she's telling him he needs to go.

"Mom, Mom listen to me…" He gets her to calm down for just a moment. His thoughts are all over the place. He needs to go, but he can't leave her here. "Mom, please…" He's going to tell her about Adam, about his beautiful angel.

"Mom… someone knows. I'm staying with him, I'm safe. I'm going to get you out of this, okay? Just give me a day or so, okay, Mom?" She nods once, tears streaming her face. He kisses her forehead gently. She's shaking and her skin is burning to the touch. He's certain she has a fever.

"Who? Who, Tommy?" She asks him, and his heart is pounding in his chest, a lump rising in his throat as he glances to the bedroom doorway. Nothing. He has to go soon, but he wants to fill her in as much as he can before he disappears again… No. If he's going to disappear, she's coming with him.

"Adam. Adam Lambert. He used to live next door to us with his parents, but he's living with another friend of ours. Please, Mom, come with me. Pack a bag and come with me." He says, running his fingers through her hair, his hands shaky. He's desperate to get her out of here. She's the only family he has that he loves dearly. She's the only one he would die for, aside from Adam. She smiles sadly, but she shakes her head. Tommy whimpers, biting down on his bottom lip to keep from making any more noise.

"Why, Mom?" She looks up at him, her eyes swimming with grief. Her hands trembling on his shoulders, her bottom lip quivering. She's on the verge of tears.

"I… I can't move, Tommy… I can't move my legs." She tells him, and his confusion and his sadness melts into nothing but pure rage. His dad… He didn't. He couldn't have. Tommy will kill him for sure if he did. But the look on Allison's face says it all, and he feels himself shaking from head to toe, even if only slightly. He's going to kill Richard. He's going to kill that motherfucking bastard…

"He broke them, Tommy." She explains, and Tommy hisses angrily, clenching his jaw so tightly he's almost certain his teeth are cracking from the stress. That fucker! He's shaking, but he doesn't want to hurt his mother. He takes long, deep breaths, closing his eyes for a moment. He centers himself again. He's okay. But he has a different approach. A different plan. He can't fail.

"I'll come back for you. I'll come when he's not here, and I'll get you out of here." He says, his heart is racing in his chest as the rage turns into something a little more positive. He's finally getting free. And he's going to get his mother out too. Even if it's the last thing that he ever does.

"No, Tommy. Just go. Don't worry about me, I'll be fine." She tells him, her green eyes determined. He shakes his head.

"Mom, I'm getting you out of here, simple as that!" Tommy says, ripping the blankets off of her. Her legs are a dark purple, and he kind of wants to vomit. He's so going to fucking kill Richard for this once he gets the chance. He's not going to let that monster get away with this. No more. Just… no.

"Tommy, you have to go. He could wake up at any moment!" She's begging him at this point, but he's not going to hear any of it. He's shaking his head. He's not going to leave her. He won't do it. He made that mistake once, and look at what happened to her. He left her and now she can't walk. He's never going to forgive himself for that. Never.

"I'm not going to leave you here with that monster!" He practically shouts at her, his voice angered and pained, and a tear rolls down the side of his face as he stares at her. Allison's eyes shift from his and they widen, and Tommy feels the familiar meaty hands on his shoulders, pulling him away and throwing him across the room. He crashes into the floor, groaning in pain as he struggles to get to his hands and knees at the very least. Allison's crying; he can hear her over the dull thumping of his blood in his ears.

"So, I'm a monster, eh?" Richard hisses into the shell of his ear, and Tommy curls his fist, turning and swinging, his knuckles colliding against his father's nose. Richard howls, his fist slamming into the side of Tommy's head, the force knocking the blond off of his feet, his head hitting the wall. Spots dance into his vision and he goes down again. There's a ringing in his ears and he chokes, gasping as Richard pulls him to his feet and slamming his fist into Tommy's stomach. The blond bend his knee, thrusting it hard into his father's crotch. The older male falls to the floor, clenching himself tightly, his face beet red.

Tommy rushes over to Allison, looping her arm over his shoulders, his arm tucking under her useless legs. He carries her, rushing across the room again. He tries to avoid his father at all costs, but even in his blindly pained state, Richard lunges out and trips Tommy. Swearing, the blond drops his mother, cursing and kicking at Richard again, his shoe colliding with his father's jaw. This is the most he's ever fought back. If he can't make it out, he knows he's not going to see the light of tomorrow.

He grabs his mother again, picking her up bridal style as best as he can and climbing the stairs of the room. She's light, but he's holding her awkwardly, and the world's spinning around him in a frenzy. This isn't cool at all, by the way. Spinning and carrying someone just doesn't mix. He dashes through the utility room, breathing hard and swaying a little. He just needs to get to the porch, and Monte will see them. Monte will come out and help them and he'll be free of this. But he can hear the tornado of his father's rage behind him, and there's glass shattering as if down a tunnel and roaring closer.

"Tommy, just let me go. You need to get out!" Allison's whimpering to him, her voice soft and pleading. But he won't leave her. He's her son. She's the only one who's been there for him through this whole mess. He's not going to leave her.

"No!" Tommy shouts at her, stumbling into the fridge in the kitchen, before rushing out into the dining room. They're almost there, they're almost there. Just a little father. So close, so—

Tommy trips, falling. He turns so that he lands on his back, Allison cradled to his chest. He groans again, letting her roll off of him so he can get up and move again. He starts to sit up when the impact of a broken chair leg lashing across the top of his head sends him down. Allison's screaming, and he feels her being pulled away, but he can't really see her. His vision is fuzzy, and he feels a hand gripping his throat, choking the air out of him. He blindly claws at the hand, feeling the chair leg lashing into his ribs over and over. He can't breathe, and Allison's so far from him. What a failure…

He blacks out visually, his hearing like a distant, muted tunnel. But he feels the beatings stop and hands pulling him out of the house. He's stumbling down the porch steps and across the lawn. He's pushed into a car and he can barely breathe. He's mumbling, wanting to go back. He wants the person driving to turn around, go back, go back, wait… Where's Allison? Is she here? Please, tell me she's here… Someone answers him, but he doesn't know who. No. She's still back at the house. I couldn't save both of you.

Why'd you save me?

Why me? Go back… Go save my mother, not me…

Shut up, Tommy. Just shut up… I'm not leaving you there.

But, my mother! Please…

Adam's going to kill me…


	14. Headache

**Sunday**

He didn't tell Adam.

He couldn't. He just couldn't do it. It's not because he's afraid that Adam will get mad at him or anything. It's not because he's afraid that Adam's going to run off and go kill his fuck of a father (actually, he really wants that. Well, rephrase, he wants to kill his fuck of a father _himself_). He's afraid that if he tells Adam, then the ginger will be upset. Well, yeah, of course he'd be upset. But upset to the point where he wouldn't forgive himself. He saw that look in Adam's eye when he left yesterday. He saw it. The look that said "if you come back in any less condition, I won't be able to handle it". Yeah, _that_ look.

He doesn't quite remember coming home and getting cleaned up. He doesn't know if Monte might've said anything to him. But he remembers going into the bedroom and crashing on the bed in a pair of sweats and a t-shirt. He's not sure if Adam was there or not. And quite frankly, he doesn't care. He's so tired and his head is fucking killing him. That's why he's awake now at quarter after two in the morning. Because he's certain he could feel his head splitting into two jagged pieces. It's hurting really bad right now.

He sits up on the bed; Adam's laying beside him, eyes closed and looking more than beautiful. He doesn't want to disturb his baby, so he gets up slowly, shuffling out of the bedroom. He's half awake with a screaming headache, and he's going to go get some fucking advil, because, god damnit, he's going to punch a baby if he doesn't get it. Okay, maybe that's pushing it just a little bit. But fuck, right now he really doesn't care because he's going to scream if he can't get rid of this headache.

It's just not fair though. It didn't bother him much when he got back from his house. Maybe that's because he went and took a nap. '_Maybe, also, if you're fucking father hadn't been slamming your head into the god damn wall all the time, you wouldn't be having this bitch of a headache._' He thinks to himself, blinking a few times as he turns on the bathroom light. He opens the medicine cabinet behind the mirror and grabs the bottle of pain pills. Maybe they'll put him back to sleep. God, he fucking hopes so.

Tommy shakes the bottle against his palm a few times, dropping two advil into his open hand. He pops them into his mouth and throw his head back, dry swallowing them in an instant. He doesn't care for water right now, even though his mouth is a little dry. It can wait until the morning, though. Right now, he wants to go back to bed.

He shuts off the light again and shuffles back into the bedroom, trying to be as silent as possible as he slips back into the bed, into Adam's warm arms. He sighs softly, his head pounding and he wants to close his eyes, but he's restless. And he keeps shifting. He'll turn his head or move his foot or turn over just an inch. No matter what it is, it causes Adam to stir against him, and he hears the redhead sigh. Great, now he's woken his baby up. Fantastic.

"Tommy, you still awake, baby?" Adam asks, reaching out. His fingers touch Tommy's face gently.

"Yeah." Tommy sighs, blinking slowly and clenching his jaw. His head feels like someone cut it open with a rusty knife and now they're blaring car horns right into his fucking ear. Great.

"You okay, baby?" Tommy shifts, curling closer to Adam and burying his face into Adam's chest. The redhead wraps his arms around the blond, pulling him close, keeping the blanket spread over both of them. Tommy's just fine, with the exception of his migraine. And the pain in his ribs and his legs from Richard's beatings, along with the gut shaking failure he's still feeling for leaving his mother behind. God, he's praying she's still alive right now. She has to be. She just…

"Yeah, I'm fine." Tommy says, but it's a little harsh rolling off of his tongue, and Adam's arms tense around him. Adam doesn't believe him. Go figure.

"You don't sound like it. Everything went okay at your house, right?" Adam says, bringing up the subject Tommy really, _really_ does _not_ want to talk about. At least not right now, anyway. Actually, how about never?

"Yeah, I'm sure. Nothing happened." Tommy says it a little too quick and suddenly he wishes that he hadn't. Adam's hand strokes his back slowly, before threading into his hair. The redhead is oddly silent, and Tommy knows that he's pondering his next question. The smaller male's heart is pounding a little more in his chest and his migraine _still_ isn't going away. Fucking hell!

"You know I won't be mad if something did happen. I'm just worried about you, baby. You're restless, and that's not like you." Adam's voice is soft, assuring and caring. He means the best for Tommy and yet the blond is just getting angrier. He wishes that Adam would just drop it already. He really doesn't want to talk about this right now! He just wants his headache to go away so he can go back to sleep for crying out loud!

"I know that, Adam." Tommy says with a soft, irritated sigh. He leans up and presses his lips to the underside of Adam's jaw, his lips making a soft pop against the redhead's skin. "I'm just… I'm worried about my mom… I couldn't get her out…" He says. It's not a lie. But he's not giving away the whole truth, either. If Monte hadn't stepped in and pulled him out… He'd probably be dead right now.

He doesn't want to think about that, either.

"What do you mean you couldn't get her out?" Adam asks, worried. Fuck. Think fast, Tommy. Think really, really fucking fast.

"Dad was asleep on the couch, and I had to pack a few things. I asked her to come with me and she said that she couldn't. She couldn't leave because… because then he would know that I'd come back." Tommy says. It's not a total lie. His dad _was _asleep on the couch. She _did _tell him that she couldn't go. "She didn't want to risk him waking up while she tried to get everything together. She made me leave." Tommy says. She'd told him to leave, and he wouldn't. And now here he is, lying to his baby. He's keeping the recent beating and the fears a secret, and it's _killing_ him.

"Jeez… Did you make it out before your dad woke up?" Adam asks, his fingers running through Tommy's hair, and it feels really nice. Strangely, the slight pressure isn't adding to his migraine. If anything, it feels like it's getting better. Could just be the advil though. He's not sure. Has it been fifteen minutes yet?

"Yeah." Tommy lies, feeling his stomach flopping over. Ugh. He really, really hates lying sometimes. Funny. To his dad, he doesn't feel queasy. But to Adam? Oh, hell…

There's a feeling of a knot forming in the back of his throat. Like a lump from crying way too much. But he hasn't cried, has he? He doesn't think that he has. He's pretty sure that he would know. Whatever. Adam's rubbing small circles into Tommy's head and it feels so nice right now. It's like he's being seduced back into Dreamland by a redheaded incubus. Oh, God. How many advil did he take? This isn't supposed to be happening. This shit happens with Benedril…

He's just tired. That's why he's thinking strangely. Ugh, and his headache still isn't going away. It's gotten better, that much is true, but it's still lingering there in the back of his head, nagging at him like an annoying child. He's not sure if he'll be able to go back to sleep after this. He wants to with all his might, but as far as actually being able to, he's not… Ugh. So tired.

"Baby, you okay?" Adam can feel the tension in Tommy's body and the blond sighs softly, reaching out, his hand resting first on Adam's hip. He slides it up along Adam's chest, and he smiles as the redhead shivers lightly. It's dark, which makes this a little more than cute, but not quite romantic. But maybe it is romantic and Tommy's too tired and irritated to really see that. His fingertips trail over a nipple. He's kind of glad Adam sleeps shirtless on occasion. He likes exploring his angel's body.

"Yeah." Tommy says. He's feeling better. He can at least ignore the dull ache and focus more on how beautiful Adam is. He feels lips pressing into his hair and he smiles, his palm resting on Adam's chest. He's feeling his baby's heart beating, and it's steady and strong. Like a powerful drum, a constant beat pulsing into his hand. Tommy smiles to himself, leaning forward and kissing Adam's neck, before tilting his head up and pressing his lips against Adam's. Warm, soft and sweet as ever, Tommy shivers as Adam pulls him closer.

He likes it here. This, right now, reminds him of Friday evening, where he was laying in Adam's arms like this. Just the two of them and the occasional kiss. It's more than he could ever dream of. And that's probably due to the fact that because of his father he's never really had any dreams apart from getting the fuck out of Los Angeles. But when he's with Adam, he's inspired. He wants to do something. He wants to be someone and have a different life.

It's just… His damned father is in the way.

'_Not for much longer,_' he thinks to himself, running his fingers through Adam's hair as the redhead's tongue slips between his teeth and rests on the inside of his cheek. He moans, his eyes closed in pleasure. Right now, he's forgetting about his headache and the pains in his chest and legs. Right now, he's forgetting about his parents and the things that happened yesterday. Right now… He's only focusing on Adam and Adam's kisses and how right it feels to be here.

'_How long is it going to be before Adam finds out. And then what, Tommy?_' He fights back the voice of reason. He's enjoying himself for now, and no amount of stupid voices in the back of his mind is going to distract him from this. At least, not right now, okay? Good.

Adam mumbles something into Tommy's lips, and he thinks he heard it but he's not sure. The blond pulls away, looking up at Adam. "What'd you say?" He asks, his heart beating steadily in his chest as he snuggles closer to Adam. Maybe he didn't hear it right, but it sounded… The redhead doesn't say anything for a moment, and Tommy wonders if he fell asleep. But Adam shifts, kissing him again. Nope, he wasn't sleeping.

"I— I didn't say anything." Adam says, and Tommy frowns. He knows Adam said something, but he doesn't want to make a wrong assumption… Hell, he's not sure he actually heard it or not.

Tommy bites down on his lower lip for a moment before kissing Adam again. "Okay," he whispers, burying his face into the crook of Adam's neck and closing his eyes again. He's sure he heard it. He's sure that he's right. But he doesn't want to be wrong. All the same, the words are floating around his head and making his heartbeat quicken exponentially. Did Adam mean it? Maybe he isn't ready to really say it. If so, is Tommy wrong to want to prove that he's… He's not even sure where he's going with this because, let's face it, he's sure he heard Adam say it…

He's sure he heard Adam say 'I love you'.


	15. Dizzy

**Monday**

He doesn't want to be here right now. His head is killing him and he's tired. He didn't get a whole lot of sleep last night because this damned headache keeps coming back stronger than before. He was even stumbling around a little yesterday, as if the world was spinning. It's better now, but that just means that it could come back at any point. And that's something he's really not looking forward to.

Adam had to pull him out of bed this morning. Quite literally. He didn't want to move. So he didn't. And as a result, he was late getting to school. Not that he really cares at this point, to be honest. He's wandering down the halls, brushing passed people he knows and people he doesn't. He's heading for his locker to put the unnecessary shit away before he goes to first period. He doesn't want to learn, though. He wants to sleep, and make this headache go away.

Tommy shuffles along, keeping his head down, his hands on the straps as he stops by his locker, kneeling down and twisting the lock. It pops open easily, and he shoves the door open, shrugging out of his bag. He's in a short-sleeved t-shirt and a pair of jeans. Fortunately, the bruising on his arms faded, so he doesn't have to suffer under sleeves in this heat. But even still, there's sweat in his roots, and he grumbles to himself. Sure, this is a pretty ghetto school for Los Angeles, but they couldn't even afford air conditioning? Fans? Something? Shit.

He shoves the unneeded textbooks inside, before closing it again, throwing his bag back over his shoulder. He stands, and turns to walk back down the hall, towards the lobby. The halls seem even more crowded and nosier than when he'd be heading to his locker. He grumbles to himself again, slipping between students and teachers as easily as he can. He just wants to get out of all the noise and go to class, so he can see Adam again and feel better.

Just thinking about Adam makes him smile a little bit. Those beautiful blue eyes, that quirky smile of his. He's still certain that Adam said "I love you" on Saturday. But he doesn't want to make the wrong assumption. It's just… Ever since then, Tommy's been thinking to himself. A lot. How does he really feel about Adam? He knows he really, really _likes_ Adam, that's a damned given. But… does he _love_ Adam?

Tommy bites down on his bottom lip. He tells himself that he does, all the time. But that's when his father says things or he doubts himself. It's to make himself feel better. Does he honestly love Adam? Adam… Oceanic eyes that make him melt? That dorky, beautiful smile that makes his heart stop? Those broad shoulders and long arms that just wrap around him and make him feel like nothing in the world can hurt him? Yes…

Yes, he does love Adam.

It's just… can he say it out loud?

He knows he's going to. One day and one way or another (ha ha, that's a good song). He will. He'll have to wait for the right time, the right day, the right _moment _to say it, but he knows that he will. He can see it now; Adam's hands in his, fresh kisses on their lips and those beautiful words passing from Tommy to Adam. Those blue eyes lighting up like a sea at dawn, glimmering—

"Watch it, fag." Someone slams their shoulder into Tommy, causing the blond to stumble into a locker. The comment hurts, but Tommy bites down on his bottom lip and he ignores it. He stands straight and starts walking again, trying to block out his raging headache and the dull ache of the abused bruise from the person who ran into him. He tries not to dwell on the comment though; what do they know? That's just it. They don't. And that pisses Tommy off more than the comment itself.

He's walking, minding his own business when he sees the trademark buzz cut and the letterman jacket, and the hand that grips his shoulder and shoves him into the locks. His shoulder blade his the dial, and he hisses, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment as the football player laughs, turning to continue walking down the hallway. Oh, hell to the no. Tommy's not gonna let him get off that easy. He's tired. He's in pain. And, right now, he's beyond pissed.

He shrugs out of his backpack and follows the player, rushing up and slamming his shoe into the back of the older male's knee. The player howls, falling to the floor and rolling over to see who the assailant is. Tommy pounces, straddling the players chest, his knees pinning down the male's arms. He rears back, slamming his fist into the male's nose first, before switching to his other fist, slamming into the jaw. Tommy goes back and force, a scowl on his face as he punches the football player over and over, feeling teeth loosen and the bridge of the nose crack. Black eyes, bruises, and blood begins to appear, and people aren't doing anything to stop him. They're all shocked that someone so tiny and frail looking as Tommy is beating the shit out of the football player.

Tommy stands, grabbing the collar of the jacket and rearing back again, punching the male one more time and feeling a little more than satisfied when he falls back to the floor, kay-owed. People are gasping and murmuring around him, some of them are even cheering and telling him to keep going, and his heart is beating in his chest when he feels a gentle hand on his shoulder, pulling him away. He glances back, seeing Monte dragging him down the hall, both of their backpacks over his shoulder. Tommy squirms a little, finding that resisting is futile, and he follows Monte out of the building towards the back parking lot. The backpacks are dropped on the stone steps, and Monte sits down, motioning for Tommy to sit beside him.

Monte pulls something out of his back pocket, and Tommy's almost screaming with joy at the sight of a pack of cigarettes. Monte plucks one out, and hands it to Tommy, giving the blond a lighter in pursuit. Tommy sticks the cigarette between his lips and lights it, greedily sucking in and feeling his agitation beginning to fade. He hands the lighter back to Monte so the older male can light his own cigarette. He holds the cigarette between his fingers as he exhales, suddenly exhausted and a little dizzy. There's nothing but silence and the drags of cigarettes before Monte speaks.

"You realize you've pretty much shattered that guys nose and probably even knocked out a good number of his teeth. Not to mention, you made his ego go down the drain." Tommy glances down, licking his lips a little before he takes another drag.

"Yeah." He says softly, running his fingers through his hair slowly as he exhales, smoke wafting around his face like a veil.

"What possessed you to attack him, Tommy?" Monte's voice is low, concerned. He's not meaning to sound angry or disappointed, and Tommy's knows that. He knows that better than most, because even though he hasn't known Monte long, he knows well enough that Monte means well.

But, truth be told, Tommy isn't sure what possessed him to attack the football player. He just… He remembers being very, very angry for five moments in time, and that was all he needed to lunge. Whether or not he actually tells Monte that, he's undecided. For the time being, he takes another drag of his cigarette and remains quiet, staring at the cars in the lot, few and far between. Oh, how easy it'd be to bust a window, hot wire and take off. He could get out of here. With Adam and Monte.

Oh, wait… Monte has his own car. That's right. Fuck.

"I don't know." Tommy says with a slight smile. He wishes he had something other than a cigarette right now. But, see, he'd be in deep shit if he had anything else. Damn.

"How's your head, man?" Monte asks, and Tommy frowns for a moment. Oh, yeah. His house. How many times did he hit his head? He can't remember at this point. He shrugs, taking another drag before stamping out the cigarette butt. Monte scoffs, finishing off his cigarette as Tommy gathers a clot of saliva in his mouth and spits off into a bush. Ew. Disgusting. Fucking cigarettes.

"Could be better. I just got a fucking knarly headache." The blond says with a cringe, looking back over to Mr. Mohawk. Monte looks worried.

"Is it still hurting from Saturday?" Tommy nods once. Monte looks even more worried than before. And that, in and of itself, frightens Tommy.

"Dude, you should talk to the nurse or see a doctor. That can't be good. And you know what Adam would do to you if he found out something was up." Monte's voice is low, and Tommy looks away, licking his lips slowly. He knows he should probably see someone, but the idea of letting someone else in and informed… No.

"I don't know, Monte. I'm sure it's nothing." Tommy says, kicking at a rock and watching it fall down the stairs. Monte sighs softly.

"Nothing, Tommy? Please." Monte says. Tommy looks over at him, before rolling his eyes.

"Whatever. I'll get it checked out after school today." Tommy says, standing and grabbing his bag. Monte looks up at him with a curious and somewhat hopeful look on his face.

"Promise?" Tommy nods, walking back and opening the door, slipping back into the building. He walks down the small hallway and making a right, heading towards the lobby. It's easy enough, it's just walking, but his head is really, really beginning to hurt right now. He blinks a few times, the edges of his vision getting fuzzy and he stumbles once into the locker. Whoa, shit.

"Crap…" Tommy mutters to himself, falling to his knees. His head is pounding and he's beginning to feel sick. He needs to lie down… How about here… in the middle of the hallway… Yeah, here's nice. He falls, stomach flat on the ground, head turned to the left. His eyes are closed and he feels better, now. So much better, that he doesn't even feel the hands on his shoulders, pulling him to his feet. He's gone. Out like a light.


	16. Blood

**Monday**

"Mr. Ratliff, do you know what might've caused you to pass out in the middle of the hallway?" The school nurse, Lynn-something-or-other, asks him as she sits down in a chair across from him. He's laying down on one of the school's rather uncomfortable cots with a thin blanket draped over him, his head on a soft pillow. Tommy blinks a few times, trying to adjust to the light, but it doesn't seem to be working. He drapes his arm over his eyes and he sighs. He just woke up. How long has he been here?

"Um… my head hurt, and I was dizzy," he says softly, his throat dry. He coughs and Lynn stands up to fetch him something to drink. She comes back with a plastic cup in her hand, and he sits up slowly, keeping his eyes mostly closed. No wanting to blind himself, see? He takes the cup and drinks greedily, almost whimpering when it's gone. But he knows better than that, and he hands the cup back to her, before laying back down. His head is pounding a little too much for him to be upright for now.

Lynn nods once, folding her hands in her lap. "Tell me, Mr. Ratliff, did you do anything that could have potentially caused harm to your head, recently?" Tommy keeps his arm over his eyes, but a soft breath escapes his lips. He's… Not sure, what happened. It's fuzzy, to be honest. He knows he went to his house on Saturday, he knows he talked to his mom, and then Richard came in… But… It's almost as if it goes from Richard's entrance to Tommy being in the apartment with Adam. He doesn't remember. He frowns to himself. If Richard was involved, then he was either hit or he himself hit his head somewhere…

"Mr. Ratliff?" Lynn says his name again, and Tommy exhales another breath. Partly because he's tired. Partly because he's not going to give Lynn the answer she wants. And finally because he's really tired of her calling him 'Mr. Ratliff'. Seriously. It's ridiculous. He's not his dad. He's Tommy. Get it right, bitch.

"I… I don't remember, I'm sorry." He says. Better just to be honest than try to figure out a lie or something. Right now, he wants two things. To get out of the nurse's office, and to go back to the apartment with Adam. He needs his baby right now. He needs to be in Adam's arms right now, because just the idea of that and he's feeling better.

"Well, Mr. Ratliff—" okay, that's it.

"Tommy, please." He says to her. He knows (yes, he knows) that there's a bitterness to his voice, but, hey, give him some props. At least he's awake right now and answering her stupid questions, when he could still be asleep right now, hopefully getting rid of this goddamn headache of his. Sheesh.

"—Tommy, since I found you lying face down in the hallway, your head seems to be hurting, you're dizzy, sensitive to light, irritable, and you don't remember what might've caused you to suffer all of this, it's blatantly obvious you have a concussion. The seriousness is unknown to me since we don't have the proper equipment to find out. But I strongly recommend that you consult a doctor and get this checked out immediately." Okay, so much for getting rid of his goddamn headache.

A concussion? A concussion? No! He can't! He… If Adam finds out about this, he's so screwed. The reason for that being because he lied. He lied and told Adam that he's fine and that everything was fine. But now here he is, barely remembering Saturday and being told that he has a concussion and should see a doctor. Fuck, Richard! Fuck that douche until he dies!

Tommy sighs, covering his eyes with the heels of his hands. He… This can't be happening. Maybe the nurse misdiagnosed him (after all, they don't have the equipment necessary), and maybe he just has a really, really bad headache. Yeah, he doesn't have a concussion. He needs to get out of here though. He tries to sit up and his head seems to scream. He cringes, and flops back down, hearing Lynn talking but he doesn't understand the words. His head… Fuck, it's like someone just took a red-hot poker and stabbed him with it. Except all over.

"Please, Tommy, you have to be careful. You need to take things slow and not work yourself too much. You could cause even worse damage." Lynn says as Tommy tries to sit up again, much slower this time. He finds that he's able to do it without making his skull split in two. But the world is spinning around him a little. He leans against the wall and takes a few deep breaths, before standing up just as slowly as he sat up. Deep breaths, and he's standing. Lynn's just a few inches taller than he is, and he notices how pretty her brown curls are, but right now he needs out.

"Thank you." He says, starting to walk forward. The door's just a few feet away from him, and his bag is on the floor. Lynn reaches down and grabs it for him. "What time is it?" He asks as his hand closes around the doorknob.

"School's been out for about twenty minutes now." She says. Tommy nods, opening the door and stepping out, slinging his bag over his shoulder. He doesn't get very far, because almost instantly, someone grabs his arm. He turns, seeing a pair of bright blue eyes, and a mane of strawberry blond hair. Adam's pulling him out of the school, and Tommy doesn't realize they're outside until the heat soaks into his skin and the sun blinds him temporarily. Holy shit, that was fast.

They walk slowly for a few moments, silence between them. Tommy knows that Adam's going to ask why he was in the nurse's office. As much as he wants to tell, Tommy isn't sure if he can. But he can't keep lying, either. It's killing him. '_Just tell him the truth. Tell him the nurse says you have a concussion, and that you need to see a doctor. He'll be okay with that._' Except that he wouldn't. He'd ask Tommy about Saturday, and now he can't say nothing happened because Adam will wonder about the cause of the concussion, and then he'll know Tommy lied.

Fucking hell.

Tommy notices though, in their silent walking, that they're heading to their neighborhood, and not Monte's apartment. The idea of being back near his house is a little frightening, but maybe… Maybe he can check in on Allison, and make sure that she's okay. He knows though that if he starts heading to his house, Adam's gonna throw a fit. His baby doesn't want him going back, and Tommy doesn't blame him. But he needs to make sure Allison's okay. He needs to, otherwise he's never going to forgive himself for anything that happens to her.

They're getting closer to their street, and Tommy's heart is pounding as he turns to Adam. "Why are we over here?" The blond asks, and Adam's eyes are hard in the sunlight.

"I need to get a few things. We're not going to be here long." Adam says, as they turn onto their street. What if Richard's there? What if he sees Tommy? There's a list of possibilities where this can go really, really wrong, and Tommy doesn't want Adam to get caught in the middle of it all. "Don't worry, Tommy. If he's home, he's not going to know that you're here with me. I promise you." Adam says, taking Tommy's hand, giving it a warm and gentle squeeze as they pass neighbor after neighbor. Tommy can't hear anything coming from his house as they stand in the driveway of Adam's house.

"Stay right here, I'll be right back, okay? Monte will be here in a few minutes to come get us." Adam says, and Tommy nods. Yes, he'll stay out here and wait for Monte. And while Adam's getting his things, he can run inside, grab Allison, and be back out in time. They'll take her away. Adam presses a kiss to Tommy's mouth before hurrying inside. His skin is flushed, and he has half a mind to stay (like Adam told him to), but he drops his bag and bolts down the sidewalk, cutting through the overgrowing dead lawn and up onto the porch. He opens the door, peering through the darkness. A mane of blonde hair and a limp body on the couch; Allison's asleep there. He doesn't see Richard in sight and he bolts across the room, grabbing his shoulders.

"Mom, Mom!" He hisses at her in whisper. Her eyes flutter open and he sees dark circles under them. God. He doesn't take the time to look her over, because he doesn't have time for that. He starts to pull her to her feet, his heart pounding a little harder in his chest now.

"Mom, we have to go!" He tells her, and she shakes her head.

"No, Thomas, _you_ have to go!" She never calls him Thomas unless it's urgent. Like, so urgent you're-father-is-right-behind-you-and-you-should-probaby-duck-oh-NOW!

And why is it that every time he tries to do something right, it just blows up in his face?

But at "Thomas", the blond shrinks down lower to the floor, avoiding his father's fist. Not that avoiding it is any better, because it catches Allison over the top of her head, and she flops back down onto the couch. Shit, shit, shit! Tommy scrambles to get away, but Richard bends down, grabbing his foot. Fuck! His heart is pounding, his head is screaming and Richard's cutting off the circulation to his foot now. Fantastic.

Why does everything go wrong?

Richard drops his foot, letting his ankle hit the side of the table. Tommy cringes, scrambling to get away. Through the front window, he can see Monte's car, and he can see Adam, looking around furiously before the redhead's eyes land on his house. Fuck, fuck! He hears a grunt and a shuffle of movement, and he looks over his shoulder to see that Allison has somehow jumped onto Richard's back and has her hands wrapped around his throat.

Go, Mom.

"Stop… Hurting… My… Son!" She hisses into his ear as Tommy scrambles a little farther. He needs something, anything to protect himself, to save his mom. He glances around, finding an empty beer bottle. Good enough. He grabs it, crawling to his knees before standing and turning around.

The world seems to explode in a frenzy of passing seconds, and everything moves in slow motion to the blond.

The door slams open and Tommy can see out of the corner of his eye that Adam is standing there with a rather furious expression. But Tommy watches as Richard throws Allison off of him, and she slams onto the table, the plywood breaking under the impact. Her head hit a corner, which means cinderblock. She's limp on the floor, and Adam's screaming at him, but he doesn't hear anything. His eyes are on his dad, burning with hatred and rage.

He lunges forward and slams the bottle onto the top of Richard's head, causing his father to shake and lose his balance. He goes down to the floor. Tommy jumps on him, holding the shattered half of the bottle by the neck and thrusting the edges into Richard's chest. The wounds are deep enough to cause any real, life threatening damage. But Tommy's stabbing him over and over and over, blood soaking into the clothes, and in some instances it's spraying up and hitting the blond himself. But he doesn't care. He's making Richard pay for this. For all of this. For himself. For his mom. For every day that was full of pain and agony and suffering and tears. For every year that was spent wishing to die.

_Tommy_…

Richard's weakly throwing punches, but Tommy doesn't feel them. His eyes are dark with rage and the need to kill. He brings the bottle up, slicing the skin before cutting across Richard's throat.

_Tommy_…

Hands reach out and grab at him, though they are not Richard's hands. Fighting, Tommy whips around, watching the edge of the bottle slice deep into a creamy wrist, inches below the palm of a hand that looks so familiar.

_Tommy!_

He's pulled away from his bleeding father, and out the door. The lawn blurs by at faster than the normal speed of walking, and Tommy's shoved into a car. His head is spinning and he feels like he's going to be sick. He blinks, the edges of his vision going fuzzy. He sees Adam and Monte arguing in the front seats. Adam's reaching for his door, trying to climb out, but Monte is holding him back, telling him things that Tommy can't hear. He only hears the pounding of his heart in his ears, the rush of his blood. He blinks slowly, breathing hard. Tears are running down Adam's face as the ginger looks over the seat at Tommy. He reaches out, his fingers brushing against Tommy's cheek.

Tommy can smell the strong scent of blood. Is it the blood on him though? No… It's coming from Adam… He tries to blink again, but his eyes don't open after.


	17. Dead

**Tuesday**

His eyes flutter open, and he finds himself in a familiar setting. Plain walls with light streaming in. He has to assume it's morning or early afternoon, right now. He blinks a few times, feeling a dull ache in the back of his head. He shifts slightly, wincing a little as a jolt shoots from his ankle and up his leg. A flash and he sees his house and his father in the back of his mind. Oh, yeah. He turns his head and sees Adam, though he already knew the ginger would be there. Arms are around him (that was his giveaway). He looks closer, seeing dark circles of exhaustion and worry under Adam's eyes, and he frowns.

He reaches up, his fingers brushing against Adam's cheek. The ginger doesn't stir, he's sound asleep. Tommy smiles slightly. This feels like déjà vu, but all the same, it's not. It's a new day. Another day. He leans over and presses a kiss to the corner of Adam's mouth, relishing in the warmth of his baby's skin. Adam's mouth is smooth too, which entices Tommy to kiss him again, and again until those once-still lips are meshing back, and Adam's wide awake. The ginger slowly runs his fingers through Tommy's hair, pulling the smaller blond closer. A soft moan comes from Tommy's lips and into Adam's mouth.

Adam traces his tongue along the curve of Tommy's lower lip, asking for an entrance that the blond is more than willing to give. Adam tastes just as Tommy always knows he will; sweet and mysterious. The ginger shifts, half straddling Tommy's waist, his hands sliding up under the blonde's shirt. His back arches up into the touch as Adam's fingers brush against his nipples, a soft moan erupting from his chest. Adam slides over, completely covering the blond as his lips suck sweetly along Tommy's neck. The smaller male shivers, arching up into the touches and the kisses. His skin is warm and he's beginning to shake. He's never felt this before…

There's a knock at the door that causes Adam to stop, and the blond turns his head to glance, somewhat annoyed. "Hey, guys, you up?" It's Monte, and his voice sounds strained. Tommy frowns, looking up at Adam. The ginger is just as confused. They shift, sliding off of the bed and fixing their clothes a little before heading to the door. Adam pulls it open, and Monte's face betrays that there's some serious bad news. The older male nods toward the front room, and the three of them walk down the hall, before Adam and Tommy sit side-by-side on the couch, Monte's in a small chair near them.

"What's up?" Adam asks as Tommy leans over, his hands in his lap. He'd like to know the answer as well, but judging by Monte's behavior, he's not entirely sure that he wants to know. But all the same, he does. Monte's face is pale and he looks uneasy, his hands are on his knees. The male takes a deep breath before looking up at them.

"I got a call from Leila and Eber earlier this morning," Monte begins. Tommy frowns. He recalls the name Eber, but Leila— oh, wait. They must be Adam's parents. That's right, he remembers meeting them once. "The police were at your house late last night, Tommy. An ambulance came and took away two bodies. Both bagged." Tommy's heart is beating harder now. What does that mean that they were both bagged…? Well, he could care less about one of those bodies, but what of the other… What does this mean?

Tommy looks over at the older male sitting in the armchair. His expression is confused, and his heart is pounding just a little harder than it was a moment ago. Bagged…? But… No. That can't be right. Bagged usually means they're… No. They're not. They're just not. Well, one of them can be, but the other can't. It's… It's not true, it's not happening right now.

"Both your mom and dad are dead, Tommy." Monte says after a moment. Tommy is sure that he feels his heart rip in half and act like it has a split personality. One part of his heart is leaping with joy up into his throat. His dad is dead, is fucking dad is _dead_. He doesn't have to go home and suffer anymore. He doesn't have to lie anymore. He doesn't have to worry anymore. He's free… He's finally fucking free.

The other; agony. Rage. Anguish. Allison? Allison is dead? What…? That's— that's not right. She can't be gone. That's just not… That's not fair! Tommy doesn't realize he's shaking until Adam puts an arm around him to calm him down, and he can feel himself rattling beside the ginger. His jaw is clenched and he's squeezing his hands together, unbelieving. Allison? No. Not…

It couldn't have been anyone else. It had to be Allison. She had to… No. Tommy drops his head into his hands, shaking like a leaf in a wind. No, it's not _fair!_ Of all the people who had to die, Allison… His mother, his _mother_. The only family he cared for. Tears streamed down his face as Adam pulled him into a hug. Monte's head hung low, guilty for being the bearer of bad news. No… Not Allison. Not his mother. Of all people, of all times… No…

She's not dead. She can't be.

"Tommy, shh, it's gonna be okay, baby." Adam whispers, but Tommy shakes his head side to side. It's not going to be okay. How can Adam say that it will? How can he when Tommy knows that it won't! Monte just said that his mother is _dead!_ He bites down on his bottom lip, pulling himself out of Adam's arms and standing up. He needs to see for himself. He needs to see her… She can't be dead.

"Tommy, where are you going?" Monte asks as Tommy shoves his feet into his shoes. The tears are still coming, but he doesn't care about them anymore. He needs to go.

"Tommy!" Adam says, his voice a little louder than Monte's. Tommy stops for a second, five feet from the door.

"I need to see her." He says, walking forward again, his hand gripping the door knob. He begins to turn it when Adam's left hand lashes out, holding the door. The right hand grabs Tommy's shoulder, and the blond turns, first staring into Adam's eyes and then he notices the gauze wrapped around the right wrist of the ginger. He frowns as Adam pulls him away from the door.

"Tommy, you can't." Adam whispers. The blond tries to pull out of Adam's grip, but he can't; Adam's a lot stronger than he remembers. And this, in and of itself, frustrates the blond. "Tommy, she's not at the house anymore. The police took her away, she's _dead_." Adam tells him this, and he knows that his baby isn't lying in the slightest.

But he doesn't want to believe it.

"No!" Tommy shouts, fighting to break out of Adam's embrace, but the ginger holds him tight. Tommy bucks, thrashing and trying to break free. Adam's so, so strong though, and he pulls Tommy back to the couch like he's not even fighting, like there's no resistance at all. Adam sits him back down on the couch, holding him there. "Let me go!"

"Tommy, you have to stay calm!" Monte says, crossing over and kneeling beside him. Tommy shoves against Adam, but doesn't move far. Monte's now gripping his shoulder, holding him to the couch. Why can't they understand that he needs to see his mother! He has to. He has to see her. She has to be alive. She's not dead, she's… She's fine, she's alive. He knows that she is… And fuck his head is really, really hurting right now. Like a serious bitch on a bitch boat.

He stops fighting. The wave of dizziness crosses over him and he grabs onto Adam to keep from falling over. The ginger holds him steadily for a moment before laying him against the arm of the couch. Breathing hard, both from struggle and the ache of his head, Tommy blinks several times, his vision getting fuzzy. Adam's fingers are light, soft against his skin, brushing his hair out of his face. But nothing's get better. If anything, the touches are making his head hurt a little more every time.

"Baby?" The voice is distant, but he knows it's Adam. He's got his eyes closed tightly, and he's barely aware that he's whimpering. Fuck… His head is hurting so badly. His thoughts are a mess and he just wants to curl into a ball and sleep for right now. Just… Sleep. Sleep off this nightmare.

Allison is dead. And there's nothing he can do about it. His mind is flashing images… How he watched his father throw her like a rag doll onto the table. He's seeing it on repeat, the way her head slams into the corner of that table, bouncing like a rubber ball before she's limp. It's going over and over in his head and there's nothing he can do about the guilt and the pain he's feeling right now. He feels the light pressure of fingers on his face and in his hair. He mumbles something about the shower, but he's not sure exactly what he says.

He's moved, he knows, towards the bathroom, despite his eyes being closed. Adam tells him that he'll be at the door in case he needs anything— or something like that, anyway. He opens his eyes, blinking and wincing at the light. It's hurting his head and he strips. He needs to be in the shower right now. He needs to clean himself off, try to ignore this aching in his head and in his chest.

He stands naked in the bathroom as he turns on the water; hot. Hot is good. He steps in, shivering and relishing the heat rushing over his skin, and he leans against the shower wall. The aching in his head isn't going away, but for the moment it's not getting any worse either, so he's not complaining right now. He just… He wants to punch something… A wall, a mirror…

Allison… His mother, his _mother_… Is dead. She's dead. She's gone. Not coming back. Nothing he can do to change the order of the universe, alter the events that have happened. He can't. It's impossible. And no matter how much he does _not_ want to believe it, he knows he has to. His mind is telling him that she's really still alive, but his heart is shattering to pieces. He lost her to his fuck of a father, when he had so vigorously sworn to himself and to God that he would keep her and Adam safe.

Adam… His baby… His baby got hurt. He saw the bandage around Adam's wrist. He knows. He doesn't quite remember how, but he knows that Adam got hurt. He bites down on his bottom lip, tears beginning to form and stream down his face as the heat splashes against his bruises, soothing them. His head is just out of the stream of water, but it's hitting his shoulder and the side of his neck, running down his body in thin rivers. It's nice.

But nice isn't the way he's feeling. He's feeling like shit. His father's gone, thank God, halle-fucking-lujah. But Allison. His knees shake a little, and he palms the wall, trying to keep himself balanced. He has to stay upright. But his head is hurting, swimming and making him dizzy. He opens his eyes, hoping to keep himself stable. However, looking around at the splashes of water on the wall makes him dizzier. He moans softly, clawing at the wall. Except that it's slick from the water. There's no hold, and he finds himself falling.

Tommy's vision darkens and he's almost out, so he doesn't feel his head hitting the wall. Not that it matters anyway. How many times has he hit his head, or had his heat hit? Doesn't matter… It's dark, warm and safe now… But he feels himself shaking. He hears someone… And then nothing.


	18. Please

**Tuesday**

"He's in the shower now, yeah?" Monte asks, his hands shoved into his pockets. Adam looks up from where he's sitting on the floor in the hallway, right beside the bathroom door. He sighs softly, and nods once as Monte plops down across from him. The older guitarist has his fingers knotted together on his knees, his expression is just as worried as Adam's.

"How's the wrist?" Adam looks down at the gauze around his right wrist. He shrugs, leaning his head against the wall. To be honest, it stings like a bitch. Every time he moves it, he kind of wants to whimper a little and fight tears. But he's gonna be alright. He's gonna live. He just hopes that Tommy is going to be okay. His baby's been through so much. He's amazed that the blond hasn't… Hasn't turned to… Something like drugs or suicide— he shivers. He shivers at the idea of his baby taking his own life.

They sit in silence for a long moment, neither of them sure of what to say or do right now. There's not much to really think about. Adam's knees are drawn tight to his chest and he sighs heavily. His head is spinning with everything. True, he may have had a bit of a rough time getting along with his dad, but he was fortunate. He's never been in a situation where his father has hit him. Yeah, okay, Eber's yelled at him. A lot. But he's never laid a hand on Adam.

He wishes that Tommy didn't have to suffer that. He has no idea the trauma his baby must've gone through, but he still wishes to God that he didn't have to… His hands tremble a little and he puts his face into them. His shoulders shake and he has to bite on his bottom lip to keep from just breaking down into sobs right now. He should have known sooner. He should have… Adam doesn't even know anymore. What he does know is that Tommy's parents are dead and he's also got a concussion.

Fucking perfect.

"What's eating you, Adam?" Monte asks, his voice soft and concerned, the emotion reflecting in his eyes. Adam looks over at the guitarist for a moment, before looking away again. It should be obvious, but then again, Adam hasn't always been the _easiest_ person to read. In cases like this, anyway, he's shut up and locked tight.

"Nothing…" He says, staring down at his hands, his fingers, his nails. He's not sure exactly what he's staring. Maybe's he's just trying to avoid contact. Why? Fuck, his head hurts. Too much has happened and he's… He's not sure how much of this he can take. He cares _deeply_ about Tommy— more than anyone else he's ever met (apart from his parents, but that's for a different reason)— but…

"That's a downright lie, Adam. I know you better than that." Monte's voice is a little on the harsh side, but Adam doesn't take any offense to it. Monte's just… Looking out for him. Adam knows that Monte doesn't mean anything by it. The guitarist just wants to make sure he's gonna be okay. That he's not gonna do anything… reckless…

"I'm fine, I promise." Adam insists, but his heart is pounding in his throat, and he sighs, listening to the muted sounds of the shower water hitting the tub and a body. He closes his eyes, imagining… Imagining standing up, opening the bathroom door and slipping inside. The steam washing around him as he strips of his clothes and gently eases the shower curtain aside. Pale, washed skin splattered with purple and blue, but that's not what he sees. He sees dripping blond hair and a beautiful boy, and he wraps his arms around the frail waist, pulling the startled blond against him…

"Adam?" Monte's voice cuts into his thoughts, and he looks up, feeling heat rushing over his cheeks. He drops his head again, biting gently down on his bottom lip. He's… he's never had thoughts like that before. Sure, he and Tommy have cuddled and kissed something fierce, but it's never advanced beyond that really. The occasional bite and touch, but, hell…

Monte shakes his head and pulls himself to his feet. "Space cadet." He walks down the hallway, towards the kitchen. Adam watches him go, but he, himself, doesn't move. He stays, on his ass, by the bathroom door. It's becoming more and more tempting to get up and slip inside. But something's holding him back. He's not sure if Tommy's ready for something like that. After all, he did just find out his mother's dead.

God, his baby… His baby's been through so much, and he's just been standing there on the sidelines, letting it all happen. He should have _listened_… If he'd just listened… He would have done something sooner. If he'd just been a little more _aware_, then maybe, _maybe_ they wouldn't be in this situation right now. He doesn't like it, really, but… He's blaming himself. He's blaming himself for the things that have happened even though he knows it's not his fault. He wasn't the one abusing Tommy. He wasn't the one abusing Tommy's mother. He… He still _should have done something_!

'_Stop it, Adam. Stop blaming yourself. There's nothing you could have done. You've done all you can. Tommy's safe now. He's not going to hurt anymore._' He tells himself, but somehow it's not quite enough. His heart is pounding a little harder and he's starting to shake. He bites down on his bottom lip, crossing his arms on his knees and burying his face into them. His shoulders tremble as light sobs fall off his lips. He can't stop blaming himself and he doesn't know why. He should have…

_Thu-dunk!_

Adam's head snaps up, the tears half way down his cheeks. No. He turns his head, towards the door as Monte comes rushing from the kitchen, stepping into the hallway. But Adam's already on his feet and shoving the door open. The steam is thick and he stumbles to the shower curtain. There's a gap between the edge and the wall, and he can see blond locks and pale skin on the bottom of the tub. No, no, no. He rips the curtain aside.

He doesn't even see Tommy's naked body. He just sees Tommy. Eyes closed. He doesn't even look like he's breathing. Adam whimpers, reaching in and clumsily pulling his lover out from the spray of the shoulder. Yeah, he gets quite wet in the process, but he doesn't care. He reaches up and snatches a towel, wrapping it around Tommy's frame as he cradles the blond in his arms, trying to shake him awake. He has to wake up. He has to.

"Tommy. Tommy, baby, wake up. C'mon, Tommy, please…" He mutters, before turning his head towards Monte. The guitarist is standing in the doorway, eyes wide and speechless. "Call nine-one-one!" Adam screams at him, before returning his focus to his baby. God, Tommy…

"…just collapsed in the shower, he needs an ambulance…" he can hear Monte talking in the hallway. His heart is thrashing in his chest. Heart…

He leans down, pressing his ear into Tommy's chest. He's breathing hard and praying, praying, _praying_ despite the fact he's _so_ not a religious person that his baby's got a— yes! Yes, it's there. It's… It's there, he can hear it, he can feel it. But it feels weak. He cries out, pressing kisses into Tommy's hair and into his lips, breathing down his throat. He needs Tommy to wake up. He… Tommy—

"Tommy… Tommy, please!"

"…no, he needs it _now_, ma'am. Yes, I know it's going to be a few minutes, but he doesn't _have a few minutes_…" shit, shit, shit!

Tears stream down his face more freely now that he's more present. Tommy… Tommy's unconscious. Tommy has a concussion. Tommy's family is dead. Tommy's probably god permanent damage in certain areas of his body. The police are coming to take Tommy away. Tommy's unconscious; is he going to wake up? Will he ever…

"Tommy, baby. _Tommy, please…_" He begs. He fucking begs. And still nothing.

It seems like forever. He doesn't hear Monte get off the phone. He barely bears the door opening and people talking. Asking questions and telling him what to do. He's barely aware and he refuses to let go of Tommy, so he gets to go with them down the stairs and into the ambulance. There's people looking through windows, peering at them and all Adam can do is mumble into Tommy's ear as they strap him into oxygen and an IV.

"Please, baby… Please, wake up. I need you. I love you, Tommy. Wake up…"


	19. Why?

**Saturday**

They tell him he's been asleep for five months. They call it being "in a coma", and they say it's from the concussion and trauma to the brain. Probably resulted from abuse and the death of his mother. He bites his lips and tries not to think about it. But they keep talking and taking tests and drawing blood and injecting him with pain medicines. They tell him that his mother was buried and they made her look really pretty. They tell him his father was buried across the site from her. He thanks them for that.

They tell him that, because he's been, eh, out of commission for five months that he's going to have repeat this school year. He tells them he's not going back. He tells them he's dropping out because he doesn't want to do it anymore. They look a little disappointed, but he really doesn't give a fuck anymore. Doctors run more tests, take more blood, fill his stomach with shit food that he eats only portions of. Fuck, he can't even finish a cup of chocolate pudding. He has no appetite.

The police ask questions. How long have you been abused? He replies in monotone, barely above a whisper half the time. Almost my entire life. Was it just your father or did your mother do it too? My mother tried to fucking save me from it. They feel ashamed for asking something like that. As they should be. He doesn't want to talk to them, though. There's only one person he does want to talk to. But he hasn't shown up yet. He's been awake a week and the one person he wants to see hasn't come around.

Naturally, this makes him quite… depressed.

He's awake for two weeks, and still no sign of Adam. Monte visits him on occasion, but even when he asks, the older male doesn't say anything of the redhead. Almost as if he's trying to ignore the topic of "where is Adam?". Every time he tries, Monte changes the subject or just says "I don't know". It irritates him. Badly. To the point where sometimes he won't even talk of anything else or have any interest in anything other than Adam.

When days like that come around, Monte tells him that he needs his rest.

Three weeks, no Adam. He's given up on asking since Monte won't tell him. He's barely eating anything, sleeping perhaps too much for his own good. Sometimes the kind nurses that tend to him will help him walk down the hall. He's been bedridden for five months, his muscles and joints don't really want to work properly at times. It used to be that he couldn't make it half way down the hall without being winded. But now he can make it down and back without exerting too much strain.

The nurse tucks him back into bed. There's a book on the side table, a small TV in the corner. His window opens to a nice view of Los Angeles, it lets in a lot of light. She says she'll be right back, but he doesn't really hear her. Where is Adam? Why hasn't he come to say hi? To make sure he's okay? Is it too much to ask for? Is he busy with school? No… He can't be. School's out by now. It's July; that's what they've told him, anyway.

When the nurse comes back in, he turns his head to talk to her for a moment. "Can you do me a favor?" He asks. She stops and looks at him before nodding. She has bright blue eyes and thick, curly black hair, freckles gracing her cheeks.

"Sure thing." She says. He fiddles with the hem of his blanket, staring down at it for a second. He's not sure if what he has in mind will work, but he can hope and pray can't he? '_It just the last time you hoped for anything, it didn't work, remember?_' Shut the fuck up.

"Can you possibly get in touch with the Lambert's? They lived right next door to me…" He says softly. The nurse bites her lower lip for a moment, thinking briefly.

"I think we have them on record, if I remember correctly. Let me go check, and if I can find their number, I'll bring it to you." She says with a slight smile. He returns it, but only partially. She turns and leaves the room, and he sits in silence. He hopes that she can find the number. Maybe Monte can't tell him, but surely Adam's parents can, can't they? They won't be so cruel as to keep that kind of knowledge from him…

But maybe this is just more wishful thinking. He's not sure at this point. He looks out the window again, wondering if anything's changed. He doubts it. It's fucking Los Angeles. Things rarely change anymore. He sighs, looking back down at his hands. He blinks back tears, thinking of the things his hands have done and touched… He killed his father for killing his mother… He's held hands with an angel, touched an angel… He rests his head against the pillow, feeling a few tears slip and slide down his face. He wipes them away as the nurse walks back in.

"Here you go, Tommy," she says, handing him a piece of paper. He nods in thanks as she leaves again, and he reaches for the small phone beside the book on the side table. He dials the number with shaking hands, before holding it to his ear and listening to the soft rings. He breathes a little harder with each ring before there's a click, and a female voice on the other end.

"Hello?" He swallows the lump in his throat, but he can't stop his racing heart.

"H-hi, is this… M-Mrs. Lambert?" He can't help the stutter, either. He stutters when he's nervous. It's a bad habit he's been trying to break for years.

"Yes?" She sounds confused. "Yes this is, may I ask who's calling?" She sounds sweet.

"M-my name is Tommy J-Joe Ratliff, ma'am. I'm a friend of Adam's…" There's a smile he hears in her light little laugh, but it also sounds sad. Happy but sad? What?

"Hi, Tommy. How've you been?" She asks, and he sighs slightly, smiling a little bit. She sounds so, so sweet.

"Well, I have to say I've been better…" Well, not always. But he has been better than this before, that's true. It's just… He's not sure if she knows that little detail or not. He hasn't really been told much of anything other than the fact that the cops aren't going to pin his father's death as murder on his hands because it was considered self-defense for years of abuse. Or something like that. "But I'm doing okay." He finishes.

"That's so wonderful to hear. I'm… I'm sorry about what happened… to your mother, I mean." So, she knows Allison died. Okay… "I— we only know as much as the police allowed, but they told us that she died and you were in the hospital. But I'm glad to know you're okay." He smiles, feeling tears in his eyes. He hasn't been cared for or worried about like this by anyone other than his mom and Adam. Adam…

"Thank you, Mrs. Lambert—"

"Oh, honey, call me Leila, please." He laughs a little.

"Thank you, Leila. But, I have a question…" He trails off.

"Yes?"

"Umm… is Adam— is Adam home?" He stops talking after the question is asked; he barely breathes. He waits for Leila's response, and she seems hesitant. He gnaws on his bottom lip for a moment as she sighs over the line. He imagines her with her eyes closed, either leaning against a wall or sitting down in an armchair, rubbing her temple with her free hand.

"Tommy…" She sighs again. "Adam went to go live with his grandparents… Up in Washington. He left about two months ago. I'm really sorry…" Tommy lowers his gaze down to his lap, feeling the sting of tears welling it the corners of his eyes. They spill over and slip down his cheeks. Adam left?"

"W-what?" He barely realizes he's spoken until the word passes his lips. Leila sighs softly again.

"Adam went through a spell of depression. He wouldn't eat, slept most of the day. Sometimes he'd be up late at night and he'd just… Sit on his bed and stare out his window. If it wasn't that, he'd be on the back porch staring at your house." He's not hearing a word of this. He's just staring at his lap and watching the tears soak the thin blanket that's spread over his legs.

"I'm really sorry, Tommy." She says after a moment.

"It's okay." He says, but his voice is flat and he's trying not to completely break down in front of her right now. His shoulders are slumped forward, his spine is bent and it's starting to hurt, to be honest.

"I take it you two we real close?" Another tear falls.

"Yes, ma'am." The conversation is pretty much over after that. He says goodbye to Leila before hanging up the call, and he drops his hands in his lap, the tears flowing freely. Adam… Adam left? Adam left before he could even say goodbye? Is this why Monte wouldn't say anything? Because he didn't want Tommy to know that the person he loves is gone? And that… He chokes, burying his face into his hands and weeping. He can't help it. It's like learning his mother died all over again. He may never see Adam again.

He sits in his room, crying. Even when the sobs are done, the tears spill and spill and spill like never ending waves. He sniffles, swallowing the pained lump in his throat. He doesn't even really pay attention to the nurse as she asks him if he's okay. She sits down on the edge of the bed and wipes away his tears with a Kleenex. She asks if everything's alright, and he shakes his head. She tells him he has a visitor, and wants to know if he would like to see said visitor. He shrugs.

She leaves, and Monte comes in. When Tommy looks up at him, his grief turns into anger. He's angry because Monte couldn't just fucking tell him! He drops his gaze back to his tear soaked lap, even as the older male takes a seat in a chair near his bed. And he's sure by the look on his face and the pain in his eyes that Monte knows he found out. The male sighs, rubbing the back of his neck before folding his hands in his lap.

"Who told?" He asks.

"His mom." Monte frowns and looks up at him. "I called." He nods and looks back down again, his fingers knotted together as he sits in silence. Tommy swallows the lump in his throat again before grabbing a tissue and wiping his nose with it, tossing it into the trash can.

"Why couldn't you have just told me?" He asks, keeping his voice low and as calm as he can make it. Monte shifts in his chair, uncomfortable. Tommy looks up over at him, his lips in a tight, thin line across his face.

"I… I was going to…"

"No, you were going to leave me wondering and guessing before I drove myself insane." Okay, that's exaggerated, but right now he's pissed beyond belief. He's pissed, he's depressed, and he really, really just wants to fucking see Adam.

"That's not true, Tommy. I was going to tell you. I was just waiting for you to get back on your feet, first." Tommy scoffs, rolling his eyes.

"I've gotten back on my fucking feet. Just cause I'm still in this Goddamn place doesn't mean I'm not capable of handling a little truth once in a while." His voice is getting harsh and climbing a little. Monte shifts in his chair again, leaning forward a little and trying to be calm.

"I know that you're capable, Tommy. I'm not saying you aren't…" Tommy looks away, biting down on his bottom lip as a new wave of tears stings at his eyes.

"She told me he left two months ago. Pretty much a month before I woke up. _A month_, Monte. You couldn't have convinced him to hold out? You couldn't have told him to wait just a little longer?" The tears well, but they don't fall just yet.

"Tommy, you would have had to see him… He was killing himself because of what happened…" Now they spill. The idea that his baby was hurting himself just… It stabs at Tommy's entire soul. He puts his face into his palms, his hair curtaining him. It's grown out, it hangs down to his chin. A dirty blond mess of hair. "I'm so sorry, but there was nothing I could do. I couldn't watch him suffer, and his parents suggested that he get out of town for a little while. Just to clear his head and not worry so much."

Tommy wipes the tears away and he looks over at Monte again. "Have you tried calling him?" He asks. Monte swallows and nods. "Well?"

"He doesn't answer. I've tried calling his grandparents, but he's either never home or he doesn't want to talk. He's shut himself off." Tommy blinks a few times.

"Let me call him." He says firmly. Monte's eyes widen and he shakes his head. "Why not?"

"You're not strong enough to handle that. As it is, you need to calm down…" He's so tired and fed up with this.

"Fuck calming down, Monte!" The monitor indicates that his heart rate is increasing, and he feels exhausted again. "Let me talk to him!" Monte stands from the chair and pushes Tommy down against the pillows, forcing him to try and relax. He has to take several deep breaths to calm his heart down and to keep the dizziness away. His hands are shaking at his sides.

"Not today." Monte tells him. He's crying again, his lower lip trembling. But now he doesn't even look at Monte. The older male sighs and says he'll be back another time, before leaving and closing the door behind him.

'_Adam, why couldn't you hold out?_' He thinks to himself. '_Why couldn't you just… hold out a little longer? Why did you leave?_' He looks up at the ceiling, staring blankly at it for a moment. His heart and his head hurt, and the combination of the two make him really, really tired.

'_Why?_'


	20. Don't

**Thursday**

It's two weeks later. The doctors tell him that he's well enough to leave. They're just concerned because he doesn't talk much anymore and he just stares out of his window. But Monte assures them that he's fine. That he's going to be okay. He just needs some time to readjust to being out and amongst people again. They grudgingly let him go, but they repeat words that mean the same thing, no matter how it's paraphrased. They tell him if he gets dizzy or suffers repetitive headaches, he must come back. Otherwise, take it easy and good luck.

Good luck. You've gotta be fucking kidding.

He follows Monte out of the hospital; it's the first time he's left the building. The air kisses his skin and he feels cold, but he doesn't shiver. The wind brushes his hair (God, it's so long now) around his face. He bites down on his bottom lip as he follows the older male to the car. Monte unlocks the car and he slips into the passenger seat. He thinks of all the times Adam has sat in this seat, and he wants to cry. But he doesn't. He shoves that thought to the back of his mind as he buckles in; Monte stars the car, the engine purring. His hands are on the wheel for a moment before he looks at Tommy.

"Where do you want to go?" He asks. Tommy blinks once, but doesn't say anything. He doesn't know what to say at this point. Sure, the question that Monte asks is direct and about as subtle as one can get, but where does he want to go? Washington. He wants to find Adam. The apartment. He wants to get his stuff. His house. He wants to remember that his mom used to be alive. But maybe his house isn't the best. He doesn't want to remember Richard after all of this.

Monte waits for an answer that Tommy doesn't supply, and he sighs heavily before putting the car into reverse and pulling out of the parking spot. He drives out of the lot and down the street. It's busy with three o'clock lunch rushes back to work, but Tommy doesn't pay any mind to the world outside the window pane of the car door. Monte plays music that he doesn't hear because his mind is wandering off and he's trying to figure out how much money it would take to get to Washington…

"Tommy," Monte says, and he turns his head automatically, thoughts about Washington on pause as if it were a movie. "Do you wanna go back to the apartment?" Tommy blinks, and nods once, looking away again. He stares blankly out of the window of the car. If he can get enough money to travel up and support himself a little, he might be able to ask around during the day about Adam and then at night he can try and crash in a bar loft or something. Maybe there'll be shelters he can stay at, cause he knows for damn certain he has no family up in Washington.

But what if he can't find Adam? What if the angel as changed his name? Changed his appearance? What if Adam really isn't even in Washington? What if he's right under Tommy's nose and he just doesn't know it? The idea springs tears in the ducts of his eyes, but he blinks them away because he doesn't want to cry right now. He can't. But… He still thinks about that notion. What if Adam isn't there? What if he never sees the ginger again? What if he goes on for the rest of his life with the knowledge that he never told Adam he loves him?

He doesn't even realize that they're back at the apartment already until the car stops moving and Monte is shaking his shoulder to get him to snap back into reality. He sighs, unbuckling his seat belt and slipping out of the car, closing the door gently. He follows Monte into the apartment, before standing in the doorway and just staring around the room that is so familiar and yet alien all the same.

The living room is the same. He remembers the times he's seen Adam sprawled on the couch or standing in the hallway arch, leaning against the wall. He moves slowly, turning and staring down the hall towards the bedroom he and Adam shared. He walks, passing the bathroom as the memory of Adam cleaning his cuts and gently running smooth fingers over bruises that ached like a bitch. But that passes when he pushes the door of the bedroom open and staring inside.

It's just the same. His bass is in a corner, out of its case and collecting dust. There're a couple of articles of clothes of his that he vaguely remembers, and his eye catches a blue and black plaid shirt that he knows is not his. His knees feel like they're about to give out and he stumbles a little awkwardly towards the bed, reaching out and touching the fabric of shirt. He remembers Adam wearing it a few times at school. He grips the shirt, holding it up for a moment before setting it back down on the bed again. He pulls his hoodie up and over his head, tossing it down the floor and pulling the plaid shirt over his shoulders.

It's too big for him, but it smells like Adam and that's all he cares about. He presses his noses into the collar before climbing onto the bed and kicking off his shoes. It's as if he never left. He can feel Adams arms around him and Adam's scent sinking into his senses. Warm breaths on the back of his neck, and for the first time in a long time, Tommy allows himself a small, sad smile as the tears roll down his face and sink into the sheets and blankets. He grabs one and pulls it over himself. It, too, smells of Adam.

* * *

"Can I get some money?" It's the first thing he's said in two months. Monte swallows the bite of cereal he has in his mouth and looks up at Tommy, shocked and confused eyes gleaming in the afternoon sunlight that's pouring into the dining room through the kitchen. Tommy's standing in a pair of black jeans, black Converse, and Adam's plaid shirt. Monte sets his spoon down into the bowl before straightening in his chair.

"What do you need money for?" He asks, trying to hide the shock in his voice. Tommy licks his lips a little before speaking.

"I… I wanna go someplace else. Possibly get into a band. Start differently." He says. The negative and doubtful thoughts of traveling up to Washington have made him think twice. Monte said that Adam believes in the universe, that things happen for a reason and they last as long as they're meant to. Maybe he's not meant to see Adam again. Maybe he is. But he wants to start believing in something that makes sense. And he feels he'll do better if he leaves Los Angeles for a little while.

"Where do you want to go?" Monte questions after taking another bite of his cereal. Tommy sighs softly, shuffling over to the table and taking a seat. He knows in the back of his mind that this is going to be a decent conversation, and not the quick pass of words that he was really hoping for.

"Somewhere else. I don't know yet." Tommy says softly, staring down at the dining room table for a moment before looking up again. Monte inhales slowly, setting his spoon back down in the bowl before folding his hands on his lap and leaning back in his chair. It's as if he's lost in thought or is trying to piece together the right words to say. And he pieces them together faster than Tommy imagines.

"Are you going to look for Adam?"

He wants to say yes, but he also wants to say no. He swallows the lump in his throat that swells at Adam's name. It takes a few moments for his heart to calm down and for him to relax again, but he manages it and he gnaws on his bottom lip a little bit before he speaks.

"I don't know, yet. I might, I might not." Monte blinks once, before snorting. Tommy frowns at him. "What?"

"You might, you might not? What kind of an answer is that, Tommy?" Monte asks, his voice a little on the cold edge of polite.

"What do you mean what kind of an answer? It's an honest answer. I don't know." Tommy fires back, and he feels his heart beating a little faster again. So much for calming down.

"Tommy, you're fucking head over heels for Adam and yet your answer to finding him is 'I don't know'?" Now Tommy's getting angry.

"What do you want me to do, Monte? You said it yourself, he's shut himself off from us. Believe me, I want to find him. I want to find him and tell him I'm okay and that I love him, but what if he doesn't want to be found? What if he doesn't want anything to do with me?" Tommy shouts, standing from the chair. There's a dull aching nag in the back of his head, but he pushes it aside and takes a deep breath. He can't get worked up. He doesn't want to go back to the hospital again.

"Don't you dare think that he wants nothing to do with you, Tommy." Monte says angrily, however he remains in his chair, but he brings his hands up onto the table, still folded together. Tommy runs his fingers through his hair and inhales as slowly as he can.

"Then what am I supposed to think? How am I supposed to know how he felt, Monte? I was in a fucking coma for five months! All I wanted was to wake up and see Adam. And when that didn't happen, all I wanted to know why he wasn't coming, why he left!" His heart is pounding in his rib cage and he breathes hard, trying to calm down again. Monte sighs, rubbing his temples slowly before dropping his hands back to the table again.

"He left because he thought you would never wake up. He didn't want to get the phone call and hear you weren't getting better." Tommy stops. He just stops. He stops blinking, almost stops breathing. He stops thinking. He should have known. That should have been at the top of his list and yet it wasn't because he was being selfish. He takes a step back and slumps down, sitting on the arm of the couch and staring at the floor. He's ashamed of himself now.

"Look," Monte begins, standing from the table and crossing towards where he's sitting in the living room, "I know… You woke up and he didn't come around, and we didn't tell you. And I feel horrible for doing that, but I'd thought it would have been best for you. I didn't want you to get worked up and upset, but it seemed inevitable." Monte places his hand on Tommy's shoulder, and the blond looks over at him.

"But, Tommy… Just because he left doesn't mean he didn't care. He spent every day at your side when you were first taken to the hospital. Every single day that he could, he was there. He talked to you, sang to you. Sometimes he would just sit and hold your hand." Monte's voice is soft and gentle, and Tommy looks down at his hands, trying to imagine himself, asleep in that hospital bed and Adam at his side, holding onto him. He tries to imagine Adam singing to him, but he's almost forgotten what Adam's voice sounds like…

"I can get you money, and you can go. And if you find him, don't let him go." Monte says, and Tommy looks over at him for a moment, before nodding once.

He stands and goes down to the bedroom, packing a few things into a duffel bag. Clothes, the blanket on the bed, a few necessities and he grabs his bass. He loads it all into the car and Monte drives, taking him down to a small bank where he pulls five hundred dollars out in twenties. Not safe cash for traveling, but it's the best Monte can do and it's more than Tommy can ever thank him for. He promises to pay Monte back someday. Monte tells him not to worry about it.

The drive to the bus stop is quiet. Tommy stares out the window, wondering where he's gonna go and how long it's gonna take to get there. And then he remembers that it doesn't matter where he goes, just as long as he gets there and that he remembers to enjoy himself from time to time. He absent-mindedly plays with the hem of the plaid shirt. It still smells like Adam, and that makes him incredibly happy.

Monte pulls to a stop by the bus station. There's one coming from down the street. He doesn't care about the destination. He just wants to go. He gets out of the car, keeping the cash in his breast pocket, bound together in a rubber band. He sets his duffel bag and bass down at a bench at the stop. The bus is almost here. He turns towards Monte, before smiling and embracing the older the man. Monte's hands are large as they rub Tommy's back, but it's comforting, and he didn't realize how much he's going to miss Monte until.

"Take care of yourself, kid." Monte says. Tommy nods once, feeling the tears trailing down his face, and when he looks at Monte, he sees that the older male is crying too.

"Tell the Lambert's I say hi." He says softly, and Monte nods once. They shake hands one more time before Tommy grabs his stuff and climbs onto the bus. He takes his seat and turns his head out of the window, seeing Monte waving before the bus pulls away.


	21. Found

**Tuesday**

"Tommy, if you don't get your ass back in this kitchen and help me with this pasta, I'm gonna bake it on your face!" He laughs, rubbing the back of his neck before setting the laptop back down on the coffee table and standing from the couch. He stretches, before flipping his hair back to the left side of his face. He's done some work on his hair over the years. He's had it short and spiked he's grown it out and let it hang. Right now it's shaved on both sides, and effectively, if he were to style it in a Mohawk, it'd be taller than fuck. But he doesn't. He has it brushed over to the left side. He drops his arms back to his sides before shuffling through the small apartment to the kitchen.

It's still hard to believe, sometimes, that it's been ten years since he first left Los Angeles. He remembers taking the bus towards San Francisco before staying there for a year or so. He found this amazing couple that owned a bar that had a loft above the building, and he was able to camp with them and tend for them to pay his rent. After two years, he decided to leave again. He went up through California, through to Oregon and stayed there for another two or three years in Portland. He asked around, asked if anyone knew of someone named Adam Lambert.

They always said no.

He considered going up into Washington. He even did. He went up for a year and asked through the major cities and even the small towns. But still no luck. He played in bars and clubs, playing with the few bands that he could that needed a bassist or guitarist for a night or two. He made some money here and there, but it wasn't enough to find a decent place to live and there were no open jobs. So he went back down into California, lived in Sacramento and San Diego.

It was only up until about three years ago that he was playing simple gigs. One night, members from a band called Turn of the Screw were out drinking together and they liked what he could do. Asked if he wanted to join them. They discussed business and he joined them. They had him play guitar in the various clubs and bars that they could get to sign to before eventually making it a little bigger in life.

The only thing about Screw was that the band was huge into drinking. And the occasional smoking of pot. But pot doesn't bother him. However, he remembers, very clearly, many nights waking up in a bathroom and feeling like shit. It's never a good feeling, waking up with a bitch of a hangover in a place that's very unfamiliar to you. Oh yeah, a lot of the times he woke up, he was in someone else's house, and they, too, were passed out somewhere.

But a year ago, he was out playing and he ran into Mia Tyler. Gorgeous woman with black and red hair, full lips, creamy face. He's living with her now, actually. She liked what he did, thought he was cool, the whole shebang. They talked a lot, she came to their shows and they would hang out. Six months ago they dated for a while, but decided that it really wasn't for them. Mia had said to him that she could tell he wasn't really into it, them dating. He's never told her about Adam.

"I'm coming, don't get your thong all twisted." He remarks, before walking through into the kitchen with a smile. She laughs, shaking her head as she works diligently to make even layers of pasta noodles and cheese and sauce. They're having lasagna tonight, and he can already tell by looking at the pan that it's going to be fucking delicious.

"My thongs don't get twisted. I don't get the opportunity to wear them cause _you_ keep stealing them!" She says, laughing loudly and nudging him in the side. He chuckles, tapping her nose with his finger.

"That was one time." No, he hasn't told her about Adam. He's told her about his childhood, and Monte. But he never talks about Adam. He couldn't explain why, though. It's just… Adam's not someone he likes talking about. He knows he'll tell her eventually. Maybe tonight. Tonight would be good.

"Uh huh, sure. I'm convinced you're still wearing them, though." She says as he takes the jar of sauce and spoons some out, spreading it over a layer of pasta noodles. Mia wipes her hands on the apron she has tied around her waist. She goes all out when she cooks. Aprons and whisks, using every appliance she has to. And she's a fabulous cook, too. He's never had a better meal. When she looks away, he takes a pinch of the cheese and sprinkles it on his tongue before going back to his saucey work.

"I'll be right back, it's Tuesday night!" She says with enthusiasm, before leaving the kitchen and heading to the living room of the apartment. He frowns, watching her leave before he finishes the layer of sauce and grabs the cheese, taking large pinches and spreading it evenly. He hears her flicking through channels on the television.

"What'cha up to, Mia?" He calls to her. She turns up the volume and bounds back into the kitchen, taking a handful of cheese from him and helping him with the pasta in front of them. She's got a smile on her face and he swears she's glowing.

"Tonight's the Idol finale. It's down between Kris and Adam…" It happens every time he hears that name; Adam. His heart leaps into his throat and he forgets to breathe. And it happens tonight. He coughs a little to remind himself that he needs to breathe. It's probably not the same Adam, anyway.

"Idol?" He asks. She rolls her eyes and helps dump the last layer of cheese onto the dish.

"Yeah, American Idol. Best fucking TV show ever." She tells him as if it's a worldwide fact. She turns, taking the pan and setting it into the oven, before shutting the door and pulling him by the arm towards the living room. He rolls his eyes and laughs a little as she pulls him down to the couch. A screen shows a bunch of people saying they're the next American Idol or whatever. The screen flashes with all these people before stopping at a brown haired, slightly tanned individual, wearing a dark jacket and a number on his chest; 1877.

"I am one of one-hundred thousand," he says, and Tommy can feel his heart stop as he stares at the screen, watching as it changes again.

"I am the voice in the crowd that needs to be heard," a smaller man with shorter brown hair and a hat, wearing plaid. His number reads 25439. The screen flashes back to the first male, and Tommy's heart feels like it's slamming itself into a wall over and over its beating so hard. It can't be.

"I am a dreamer." He says. Back to the second man

"I am ready." Back to the first man, and fuck does he know that smile.

"I am a superstar in the making." Second man.

"Because I am the next American Idol."

"I am the next American Idol." The screen flashes to clips of the familiar man, except now he has black hair. And he looks so beautiful. Tommy's not even sure if he's breathing and Mia's having a spazzing fit next to him. She's not even paying attention to the fact that he hasn't blinked once.

The announcer speaks, and he's not listening. He's just thinking about that man with the black hair and, if he looked close enough, he's sure he would have seen bright blue eyes. But that smile. That smile he knows, that smile he's seen so many times and longed to see again. Ten years, he hasn't seen that smile. Ten fucking years. His heart is thrashing and he's barely breathing as he stares at the screen. Mia's freaking out and talking, but he doesn't hear her. Not a word.

"Tonight, it is the battle between the acoustic rocker and the glam rocker." The announcer says. Glam… Well… "Conway versus California," California? Fuck! "The guy next door versus the guy-liner." Guy-liner? Oh, he gets it now. "It comes down to Kris and Adam." See there? He shivers again.

Now he's talking about the judges. Fuck the judges. Who's this Adam? He needs to know. He needs to know if this Adam, this black haired Adam is his Adam. He _needs_ to know! "Get on your feet for Adam Lambert and Kris Allen…" He chokes, breathing hard. Mia's now looking at him and seeing his face and she looks concerned. His jaw is open a little, his eyes are distant and he's breathing really, really hard. Adam?

Distance shot; they walk down the stairs. Tommy's staring at that Adam. That smile. It has to be Adam. But he's got his doubts. What if he just looks like his angel? Adam from before had red hair. What if this… More discussion, but he's not listening. He needs to hear this Adam sing. He needs to know if it's his Adam… It's starting with Adam. Tommy inhales sharply, and it shows clips of this Adam's family.

The Lambert's… they've gotten older but they look good. His heart cracks a little. Adam… He's singing Mad World? The piano intro is beautiful, there's fog. It sounds magical. He loves it and—

Oh, God, _Adam_…

"Tommy? You okay, baby?" He doesn't realize he's crying until Mia's wiping away the tears and then he starts to wail. His breath chokes and he slaps his palm over his mouth, breathing hard. Mia's got her arms around him and she's rubbing his back, whispering in his ear. Oh, God, Adam… Adam… He buries her face into her shoulder and he weeps as Adam sings through the television. He remembers that voice, that man, and he's missed him so fucking much!

"Baby, what's wrong?" Mia asks, a little louder this time.

"Adam…" He chokes out, "Adam, he…" Mia shakes her head against his.

"What about Adam, baby?" She asks him, rubbing his back a little more as he wipes his tears away. He looks at the screen, but Adam's not there anymore. It's Kris this time, and he's got a good voice but it's not Adam. He inhales slowly, rubbing his eyes before swallowing the lump in his throat.

"This is gonna be a hard story to explain…" He tells her, and she smiles softly at him.

"Baby, you can tell me anything, you know that." She says, and he smiles at her. He wipes his eyes again and he's so fucking thankful that he's not wearing eyeliner today. It's pretty relaxed and he sighs again.

"Back when I was in school… The year my parents died… Adam… Adam was my next door neighbor," Mia's eyes grow wide as he says this, "and… we went to school together. He…" Tommy chuckles a little, staring blankly down towards the floor. "We were in love…"

"You what?" Mia exclaims. "You'd better not be bullshitting me, Thomas." He laughs weakly, voice hoarse from crying.

"Have I ever told you a lie, Mia?" He asks, before the commercials end and the announcer is saying that Adam's coming back on. Tommy looks back to the television, staring at Adam in a silver suit and he looks so beautiful.

"_I was born by the river in a little town…_" Los Angeles is hardly little, but they were by the river. And, fuck, Adam's voice has grown and gotten even more beautiful than before. Tommy forgets to breathe for, what, the one-hundredth time tonight as Adam lets out a wail that sends shivers down his spine and makes his heart melt into a pool in his chest. Mia's gripping his hands in hers and they're watching together.

"What happened?" She asks him as they watch.

"Monte said he was tearing himself apart because of what happened, and the fact that he was afraid I would never wake up from the coma. He left. He left and moved to stay with his grandparents." Mia looks over at him as the judges talk about Adam's performance.

"Did you look for him?"

"Spent the past ten years looking when I could. You said that, when we were dating, I wasn't into it…" He trails off and she blinks, realization dawning on her face.

"You're still in love with him…" She says and he nods once, looking over at her. She wraps her arms around him, breathing lightly and chuckling to herself. He holds her too, burying his face in her neck as she runs her fingers through the back of his hair gently. It's comforting and he sighs, relaxing in her arms. Kris is singing, and Tommy has to admit he's really good, kinda cute too.

"God, Tommy… You're in love with a fucking superstar!" She says in his ear and he laughs, squeezing her before hearing that Adam's coming back on with a song called No Boundaries. The piano is beautiful, and Adam sounds fantastic… Tommy lets go to watch. Adam's in white and black pants and a black jacket with studs on the left shoulder. His hair is spiked up a little and he's got the liner around his eyes.

They sway together, smiling and laughing and Tommy is crying again. He's crying because after ten years he's finally found Adam again… He's found his angel…


	22. Love

This is it, babies. This is the end. Thank you so, so much for the comments, criticism, and support. Without it, this fiction would never have been possible. I love you guys *heart*

**

* * *

Thursday**

Mia told him to come today. She told him to come and try and even if he didn't make it, he'd be able to see Adam again. So he came. He's here, waiting with the other twenty people here, his bass tucked in its case between his feet and his hands folded in his lap. The others have their instruments out or they're singing and talking together. He feels like a loner, but he doesn't mind it really. He glances around, feeling his heart pounding a little bit in his chest.

The room is wide and long, metal folding chairs being the only comfort. The floor is a worn hardwood, the walls a dark, burnt red. There are a few windows along the west wall, light pouring in from the afternoon sunlight. He's wearing black skinny jeans, his creepers, a black tank top and Adam's blue, plaid shirt. It's lost his angel's scent over the ten years he's had it, but it's still his favorite thing to wear. It reminds him of Adam all the time.

He checks his phone again. It's quarter after four in the afternoon right now. He's been here since noon. He usually hates waiting, but today he doesn't mind it. Well, that's… That's not true, he does mind. He does mind the wait, but it's not like he can waltz up to the front desk or whatever and demand to see Adam simply because they had a fling ten years ago. As much as he would like to just get up and do that right now, it'd probably result in him getting thrown out of the building and never have the opportunity…

He inhales sharply as the door opens. A woman with blond hair and brown eyes stands in the doorway, wearing a pair of dark jeans and a white tank top. She's thin but curvy. She holds a clipboard in her hand as she glances down at it, before lifting her gaze and saying a name. It's not Tommy's name, and his hopes sink a little lower. He's not sure if he's gonna get called or not, but he can hope can't he? He can hope and pray to the universe and reminisce on all the memories he had with Adam…

What's he going to tell Mia if he doesn't get in? Is he just going to back to the apartment and say he didn't make it? And then that will be that? No, that can't be that. But he's going to try his hardest, and even if he doesn't make it, Adam will see him. Adam will know he's okay and that he's alive and in the city. Maybe they'll be able to meet up after all the auditions are over and they can get back together.

But what if Adam's dating someone? What if his angel… belongs to someone else now? He doesn't want to think about it. He can't think about it. If that's the case, then he's not sure he'll be able to handle it. To think that Adam would hold someone else in his arms, kiss someone else's lips… It makes his head spin and his heart pounds a little harder at the idea but he breathes evenly and quietly, so as not to concern the girl with short black hair next to him. Her nails are a dark red and she's got creamy pale skin, tattoos on her shoulders. She's pretty.

The door opens again and the same blond woman stands there. She glances at the clipboard before lifting her head, "Tommy Joe Ratliff?" His heart leaps to his throat and he stands up slowly, grabbing his bass. He feels like he's going to be sick as he follows her through the doorway and down a long, narrow hallway. The walls are a dark grey color with graffiti spray painted over several patches of wall space. There are portraits and paintings donated to give it flair, the floors have a squishy sort of feel to them, and he wonders if it's rubber.

They pass several doors that are all closed, marked with numbers and letters. All of them are occupied. He swallows the lump in his throat as she turns to the left, and he follows her down another hallway. There is one door at the end of the hall, and it's cracked open slightly. He can hear voices, but they're soft. They're quiet and it seems like this hallway is taking forever to travel down but all the same it's not because suddenly he's standing in the room, staring at the table of people, three, he counts, not twenty feet from him.

The first thing he notices is that Adam's not in the room. But the woman with the blond hair sits down in an empty chair. Next to her is a dark skinned, muscular man wearing a black tank top and cargo shorts with army boots on his feet. His thick, black dreadlocks hand around his face and Tommy can see the dark shapes of tattoos on him. He thinks about his own tattoos for a moment before seeing a familiar face. Creamy skin, bright blue-green eyes. He's still got the Mohawk even after ten years, but now he has a beard too. He's wearing a black t-shirt with a black leather jacket over it, dark blue jeans and boots. He sets his bass down.

"Alright, guys, this is Tommy Joe Ratliff," the woman says. Monte's eyes flash and he turns his head towards Tommy, staring for a moment before a smile pulls at his lips. He didn't recognize Tommy for a moment there, and Tommy crooks the corner of his mouth up into a smile at Monte before dropping it again and looking back to the woman. She folds her hands together on the table before looking up at him.

"So how long have you been playing, Tommy?" She asks.

"Pretty much my entire life, ma'am." He says softly. He sees out of the corner of his eye that Monte has a grin stretching ear to ear. This catches the black man's attention, and he turns his head, seeing Monte's expression before cracking smile of his own.

"Monte likes you already, that's a good sign." The black man says, and his voice is soft and sweet. Tommy looks over at Monte and chuckles to himself, keeping his hands at his sides.

"Anyways," the woman says with a smile, "you've been playing your entire life. So, why do you wanna join?" She asks. Tommy glances at Monte for a second, and the older male's expression has gone serious. He can take this many ways, one being very unprofessional. He can say he and Adam were madly in love and he wants to meet him again. Or he can take the approach that would be best. The one that will probably get him closer to being with Adam…

"Looking for a new opportunity," he says after a moment of silence, a smile playing at his lips as he looks back to her. She nods once, writing something down on her clipboard before looking back up at him.

"Alright, play something for us." She says. Tommy nods once, turning and opening the case, pulling his bass out and lifting the strap over his head, letting is rest on his shoulder. He plucks the strings, tuning it to the necessary places for the song and he starts a little improve piece. Like he's doing a bass solo. His fingers start slow before moving faster, flying up and down the fret board. He closes his eyes, thinking about the last time he played something this passionately.

That was back in nineteen-ninety-nine. Back when he was with Adam in the circle of trees. He played guitar then, but he played Dream On and Adam sang so beautifully… His fingers slow to a stop and he opens his eyes again, looking up at the three people at the table again. They're all wide-eyed, except for Monte. He's got a smile on his face as he brings his hands together and he claps. Followed by the other man and the woman. They clap, smiles on their faces.

"Damn…" Monte says with a laugh before standing up. He walks around the table and claps Tommy on the shoulder, grinning ear to ear. If Tommy looks close enough, he swears that there are tears in Monte's eyes. "He's it. He's got it." He says, and Tommy's heart skips a beat. The man and woman at the table nod, before the woman stands and exits the room.

Monte pulls Tommy into a hug, clapping his back as Tommy squeezes Monte tightly, his face buried into the older man's shoulder. It's been eleven years now since he saw Monte. Eleven years and Monte's barely changed. But when they pull away from their hug, he catches the glint of a ring on Monte's left hand, and he looks up at his old friend with a smile before motioning to the ring. "You got married?" Tommy asks.

"Yeap. Beautiful woman named Lisa. Our kids are so cute, too." He says and Tommy laughs, shaking his head a little as the black man comes over to introduce himself.

"Longineu Parsons," he says and Tommy stops, staring as they shake hands.

"Longineu Parsons? You were in Yellowcard!" Tommy exclaims and Longineu grins. "Dude, I fucking love Yellowcard!" He says and Longineu throws his head back in laughter. He'd though that the man looked familiar. He looks back at Monte as the woman comes in.

"That's Lisa Harriton. Keyboards, by the way." He turns his head and looks at Lisa, and she smiles at him.

"Nifty." He says with a smile. But he has to lick his lips and he mutters softly. "Adam?"

Monte just smiles slightly and looks towards a door on the opposite side of the room from where he entered. It's open, leading out to another hallway he figures. He hands his bass to Monte before walking slowly. He's gotta keep his heartbeat steady otherwise he's sure he's going to pass out. And he likes to believe his days of fainting are over, kay thanks. But it's hard to breathe as he steps out. He looks to the left, and doesn't see anyone or anything but a few feet of hallway and a dead end. But he looks to the right and sees a man leaning against the wall, with his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his faded blue jeans. He's wearing a dark grey Queen t-shirt, and his black hair is curtaining his face delicately.

Tommy can see the liner around his eyes and the gleaming black plugs in his ears. He purposefully makes his shoe tap the doorframe, and he stands straight as the man turns his head towards him. Those blue eyes make him melt on the inside, and the man frowns for a moment before those eyes brighten with a dawning recognition. He straightens off the wall as Tommy takes a small step forward, swallowing the lump in his throat as the man opens his mouth.

"T-Tommy?" He whispers, and Tommy can't hold back. He charges forward and lunges into Adam's open arms. The black haired angel wraps his arms tightly around Tommy as the blond buries his face into Adam's chest, his arms latched around Adam's waist. One of Adam's hands slides up into his hair, gripping his head tightly and he feels Adam shaking against him. His angel is crying.

"I'm here, Adam. I'm here…" He says when he shifts in Adam's arms. Adam dips his head and rests it on Tommy's shoulder, and Tommy can feel the tears soaking through the plaid shirt that he's wearing. "Shh, Adam, I'm here…" But he can't stop his own tears from falling.

He pulls away slightly, brushing Adam's hair out of his face. He looks up into those gorgeous blue eyes, wanting to just melt in them and never leave. Adam's fingers touch his face, trailing from his cheek bone down along his jaw before curling around his chin. His heart pounds in his chin as Adam leans forward, their lips touching gently at first before meshing together. Adam's tongue slips between Tommy's lip, lying flat on his before the two muscles work with one another. Tommy moans into Adam's lips, knotting his fingers tightly into his angels' hair.

Adam pulls away, pressing kisses into his jaw and across his neck, and Tommy tilts his head back to expose more of his skin. He's on fire and his heart is pounding in his chest as Adam pushes him against the wall of the hallway, leaving tiny bites here and there against his skin before kissing him again. Adam's hands cup Tommy's face gently before they pull away again, breathing hard. Their foreheads are pressed to one another as they tremble, Tommy's breath hitting Adam's chin.

Tommy lifts his head a little, brushing their lips together again as he tries to breathe normally. His baby… Adam is right here. It's almost unreal. Almost. But Adam leaves another kiss on his lips and he opens his eyes, staring into those blue orbs and he can feel himself starting to shake again. His fingers trail over Adam's lips, and he smiles slightly. Adam smiles too, and they embrace again.

"I've missed you so much," Adam whispers in his ear. Tommy moans softly, pressing another kiss to Adam's lips. He can't get enough. He's been deprived of Adam's kisses for _eleven years_. Sometimes it's hard to believe that fact. But then he remembers. It's two-thousand-ten right now. It's so strange…

"I've missed you too, Adam." He says just as softly as Adam kisses his forehead.

"All this time… I thought… Fuck, I thought I would never see you again…" Tommy inhales slowly, kissing those beautiful, plump and freckled lips again. He's missed these lips.

"I'm here," he repeats. "I'm here and I'm not going anywhere." He says. Adam smiles, tears trailing down his face as he steals another kiss from the blond. Tommy moans softly, fisting his hands into Adam's shirt for a moment. He wants to just take Adam away from here and… Well, to put it bluntly, he wants to fuck Adam senseless right now. He really does, but he has to do something else first.

"Adam," he whispers against the blue-eyed man's lips, "Adam, I need to tell you something." Adam moans, before pulling away and resting his head on Tommy's, his hands cupping Tommy's face as if he's fragile.

"What is it, baby?" Tommy inhales slowly, looking up into Adam's eyes.

"I love you." Adam stares, and Tommy's sure he can hear Adam's heart stop beating for a moment. The once-ginger gasps for a moment as a smile tugs at his lips, a tear rolling down his face as he kisses Tommy again, chaste and raw.

"I love you, too, Tommy." He says, kissing Tommy hard again. This time, though, Tommy's tongue splits the seam of Adam's lips and slides inside, making his angel moan and run fingers through his short, brown and blond hair. Tommy's tongue wrestles with Adam's and moans spill from their throats into one another's mouths, and Tommy reminisces on something he heard many, many years ago…

'_If you find him, don't let him go._'

He has no intention of ever letting Adam go.


End file.
